


Reader's Special: 2nd Edition One Shot Reward Story Collection

by Disasteriffic_Kaz



Series: The Reader's Special Marathon [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Caring, Case Fic, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Hurt Dean, Hurt Sam, Hurt/Comfort, Teenchesters, Torture, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 22:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 96,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1486027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Disasteriffic_Kaz/pseuds/Disasteriffic_Kaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of One Shot Reward Fics for Prompters of my Reader's Special: Second Edition. Features many seasons and pre-series, hurt/limp/awesome/caring!Sam/Dean/John/Bobby/and more. See each chapter for specific info for each one shot reward fic. Each chapter is a Stand-alone story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. For Lucydolly22

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter Info: For Lucydolly22 - set in season 2 that contains the trickster and hurt sam. Mostly humour though, i need a good laugh :)
> 
> A/N: I've set it post 2x18 cause you know Sam could use a little comic relief at that point. Heh.

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Sam groaned and tried again to get his eyes open. Dean. He needed to find Dean. He tried to remember what had happened. It was a blur of still images; The forest, running with his brother, the Chupacabras' red eyes gleaming at them from above. He had a dizzying memory of the thing jumping down, sending him sprawling and thought he remembered watching Dean's legs heading away in chase, calling over his shoulder for Sam to get his ass moving. He squinted his eyes open and raised a shaking hand to his face, something caking his right eye closed. He brushed at it and his hand came away sticky and dark in the moonlight. Blood.

"Oh." He mumbled softly. That explained why his head hurt so much and what he was doing lying up against the rough bark of a tree. He felt something wriggling on his knee and looked down. His eyes widened in surprise. A large, fat caterpillar sat atop his bent knee. A thatch of thick, purple hair waved atop the caterpillar's head and it smiled, actually smiled up at him.

"Hey, Sam." The Caterpillar said cheerfully.

"Holy crap." Sam gasped and wondered just how bad he'd broken his head. He whipped his hand to toss the away. It squealed in surprise as it tumbled off into the darkness. "Ok, Sam. Get it together. Gotta find Dean." He pushed himself up higher on the tree and dropped his head forward on a moan, clutching his hands around it. "Ow." He blinked his eyes back open and flinched as he saw a set of booted feet standing beside him. He tipped his head up, hoping to see Dean.

"You make it damn hard to help you, Sam Winchester."

"You!" Sam glared up in shock at the grinning face of the Trickster. "But…we killed you!"

"Did you?" The Trickster raised his brows and slapped his hands to his chest. "Huh, seems I didn't get the memo. Maybe next time."

"What do you want?" Sam asked, suddenly tired.

"Sam! I'm shocked!" The Trickster knelt next to him and pulled a lollipop from his pocket, sticking it in his mouth. "Can't a friend just stop by to say hi?"

"Friend?" Sam snorted. He tried to push himself up the tree and slid back down with a groan. "Don't have time to screw with you right now." He desperately needed to find his brother. Dean would never have left him lying alone, wounded in a forest on a job unless something had gone very wrong.

"Screw with me." The Trickster shook his head and smiled sadly at him. "Sam, I'm here to help." He took the youngest Winchester's arm and easily pulled him up until he was standing, leaning against the tree. "I said I liked you and your brother. I meant it." His mouth split wide in a grin. "You two'd make decent tricksters of your own. Not often a couple pathetic Hunters get the drop on me!" He slapped a hand to his chest. "Not that I'm calling you pathetic. No, no. For Hunters you and Dean are practically rock stars." He laughed. "Speaking of Dean, don't you think we should go find him?" He took Sam's arm again to help him walk and was shaken off.

"I can manage." Sam said, tight lipped and then stumbled back against the tree.

"No medals for being stubborn, Sam." The Trickster rolled his eyes. "Fine. Let's see, something to help you walk…" He clapped his hands together and Sam suddenly found himself holding a can; a tall cane just the right height for him made out of candy-cane, the red and white swirls slowly spinning along its length.

"Really?" Sam looked over at the Trickster and couldn't help the smirk. "Dean sees me with this I'm never living it down."

The Trickster chuckled and waved his sucker at him. "I dunno. It's a good look." He watched as Sam took a few stumbling steps and finally found his balance with the cane. The deep wound on Sam's head still bled sluggishly down the side of his head. "Hang on." He waved his lollipop and grinned as a bandage of what looked like cotton candy spun itself around Sam's head. "Much better."

"Uh…thanks." Sam said unsure and reached a hand up to the sudden weight he could feel around his head. It felt like an odd sort of bandage, almost sticky. "Do I wanna know what you just stuck on my head?"

"Nope." The Trickster followed Sam's slow, wavering pace and grinned.

"Why are you here?" Sam asked again. "Run out of college kids to torment?"

"I was bored." Trickster shrugged. "Between college kids. Thought I'd check in on my favorite Hunters and what do I find?" He waved a hand at Sam. "The giant with his head caved in and the road warrior missing. How do you two even survive?" He laughed at the disgusted look Sam gave him. "Just observing."

"Yeah well…observe somewhere else." Sam stopped suddenly and looked around at the ground. "Damn!" He only then realized he'd lost his gun somewhere. "You see a rifle anywhere?"

"You seem to have misplaced it." Trickster danced along at his side as Sam moved. "I'll protect you, Sam!" He declared and chuckled.

"You are one strange little man." Sam muttered.

"Watch who you're calling little!" Trickster snapped his fingers and the cane began making rude farting noises each time he pressed it into the ground.

"Oh come on!" Sam stopped and glared at him.

"Never insult a demi-god when he's helping you." Trickster shrugged and grinned. He snapped his fingers again. "Come on or we'll never find him."

Sam watched him warily and then tottered forward again. This time when the candy cane pressed into the ground it blew a raspberry at him and Sam rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth to complain and then decided he didn't want to know what the Trickster would do if he did.

"I do love a fast learner." Trickster laughed and went ahead of Sam, testing the air with his sucker before popping it back in his mouth. "This way." He turned left and headed off into the forest.

Sam debated letting him leave and going his own way but, in truth the Trickster really hadn't done anything to harm either of them. He had only attacked Sam and his brother to defend his own life and Sam really couldn't fault him for that. He sighed and shook his head at his own idiocy before turning to follow him into the trees.

"I'm gonna regret this." He muttered as the cane continued to blow raspberries at him. "Somehow I'm gonna regret this."

They trudged through the forest; the Trickster in the lead and Sam haltingly following behind as his head continued to swim thanks to the concussion he was sure he had. He didn't know how long they'd been walking or how long Sam had been hoarsely calling his brother's name and received only silence in return. A sudden snap of fingers in front of his face made him jerk back in surprise. His eyes had closed without him realizing and he was on his knees, head resting against the cane.

"Not a good time for a nap, kiddo." Trickster smirked and tapped Sam's sore head. "Up and at 'em, big guy."

Sam groaned and struggled back to his feet. "You're…irritating."

"It's been said." Trickster shrugged happily. "But only by people who don't know how to have fun." He glanced back at Sam and gave a little bow. "I'm a walkin' talkin' party, Sam."

Sam snorted a laugh and kept up his unsteady pace. "You're something alright." He said softly and wondered again at the merit of trusting the Trickster.

"Oh stop thinking so hard, Sam. It'll just make your head hurt." Trickster waved a hand at him and then stopped. "Uh oh." He vanished suddenly and left Sam standing alone.

"What…hello?" Sam looked around and saw no sign of him. "Great. Real helpful!" He said to the trees and started moving again. He wasn't sure if the Trickster had actually left as his candy cane remained. He shuffled forward, searching the surrounding forest and then froze. A dozen yards or more ahead two bright, red eyes peered at him from behind a screening bush. "Oh crap." He breathed. He had nothing, no weapons, his gun missing. Sam glanced around, tension singing through him and used the only thing he had. He raised his candy cane and waited for the creature to charge. If he was lucky he could knock it cold as it reached him.

He heard a low growl on the night air and then it was coming. The misshapen body of the Chupacabras burst from the bushes and ran headlong at him, drool trailing from its jaw and razor sharp teeth as it came. He reared back with the candy cane and flinched at the sudden bright flash of light. A second later there was a cacophony of noise filling the night and something that resembled a clown shot in from the side to tackle the creature off into the trees. Sam looked around in surprise and found the Trickster nearby lowering a camera with a gleeful grin.

"Now THAT picture is a keeper!" Trickster laughed and the camera poofed away. The image of Sam Winchester, head wrapped in cotton candy with an upraised candy cane for a weapon had just been too much to miss. He filed it away for future use.

"What the hell was that?" Sam waved an arm in the direction the Chupacabras had tumbled away with the clown.

"Precision timed comic relief?" Trickster chuckled. "I said I was here to help. I wouldn't let the big bad beastie eat you. Come on, Sam. Give me some credit."

"Uh huh." Sam cradled his head in his hand for a moment. "Just…can we find Dean now? Please?" He didn't think he had much left in him; the concussion was quickly making him long for sleep.

Trickster threw his arms in the air in exasperation. "Geez you just don't pay attention. At all!" He shook his head. "Gotta do everything. Honestly." He went over to Sam and threw an arm over his shoulders. "One dead Chupacabras cause trust me…that Clown had some skills." He grinned impishly. "And one found older brother." He waved a hand in the direction the creature had come from. "No respect, I tell ya. No respect." He clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Off you go now and don't you worry." He pulled Sam's head down, hugging him close with one arm. "I'll see you crazy kids again." He grinned and vanished.

Sam stumbled with the sudden absence at his side and went to his knees when the candy cane disappeared as well. "Fantastic." He held his pounding head for a moment and then struggled to his feet. He weaved this way and that in the direction the creature had rushing him from. Sam shoved his way through the thicket of bushes and wrapped an arm around the nearest tree as he broke through, using it to hold him up.

"Dean?" He called. His voice was hoarse. Sam cleared his throat and shouted again. "Dean?"

"Sammy?" Dean's voice came to him, sort of hollow and muffled from ahead of him. "Over here!"

Sam followed his brother's voice, relieved to have found him alive. He saw a dark hole in the ground and went to his knees near the edge. He leaned over and found Dean staring up at him in the thin shaft of moonlight that filtered down inside. "How'd you get down there?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "I got bored waiting for you to show up. What do you think?" He growled. "Damn Chupacabras led me right at it and uh…I fell in." He stared up at Sam. "What happened to you?" He took in the blood coating the right side of his little brother's face and shirt and then scowled. "And what the hell is that pink crap wrapped around your head?"

"Pink?" Sam raised a hand to the tacky stuff the Trickster had put there and he sighed. "Long story. Come on." Sam lay down and hung his arm down into the hole. He felt Dean take his hand, then his forearm and dug his other hand into the soft turf of the forest floor to keep him in place while Dean climbed out. The effort made his head pound all the harder and he was gasping by the time Dean crawled over him and out, fighting to not give in to the blackness at the edges of his vision.

"Ok kiddo." Dean took Sam's shoulders and rolled him over, pulling him until he was sitting so he could get a look at the head wound that was beginning to worry him. He pressed his fingers into the pink stuff around Sam's head and smirked. "Dude…is this…cotton candy?"

"What?" Sam let his head drop. "Of course it is."

"Ok, what happened to you?" Dean stood and pulled Sam up with him, steadying him when he swayed.

"Trickster. We uh…didn't kill him." Sam told Dean with a rueful grin. "He showed up and, well…he helped me find you. Killed the Chupacabras too."

"Seriously?" Dean might have chalked the story up to the concussion Sam was obviously suffering from but the pink, blood soaked cotton candy around his head lent credence to it. He smirked. "I'm kinda not sorry we didn't get him."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah I know." He swayed again and was grateful when Dean pulled his arm over his shoulders to keep him standing. "Oh, hang on." Dean left him for just a second to recover his rifle lying beside the hole and then slid back under his arm. "Let's get you out of here."

Sam nodded, happy to get somewhere warm and hoped for a pillow though even the front seat of the Impala would feel like a palace to him just then.

Dean jerked in surprise when his phone rang. He handed Sam the rifle and dug the phone out of his pocket. He looked at the display, brows rising up his forehead until he looked slowly up at Sam. "Sammy. You forget to tell me something?" He turned the phone so Sam could see the display and watched the blood drain from his brother's face and then flood back in, reddening his face with anger and embarrassment. In the photo Sam stood, head swaddled in hot pink cotton candy with a giant candy cane raised above his head like a baseball bat while the Chupacabras was being tackled by a maniacally grinning clown in front of him. Dean started to chuckle and then laugh.

"Dude. You look ridiculous!"

"Shut up." Sam waved his hand with the rifle in the air. "I'm gonna kill him."

"I do like his style." Dean said respectfully between wheezes of laughter and carefully saved the image in his phone before tucking it safely away. The disgusted bitch face on Sam's face only made him laugh harder until he was wiping tears from his eyes.

"Jerk." Sam grumbled as they trekked back through the forest toward the car. "You're both jerks." He picked at the cotton candy around his head and rolled his eyes when Dean actually laughed so hard he snorted. "Get a grip."

"I'm tryin' Sammy. I am but…" Dean waved a hand at his head. "I'm only human." He wiped a hand across his face and calmed the laughter a bit down to a constant chuckle. "Oh man I can't wait to show Bobby."

Sam stopped and glared at him. "I will hurt you."

Dean barked a loud laugh. "Not in this condition you won't. Come on." He started them moving again and then jumped when his phone rang a second time. "Popular tonight." He pulled his phone back out and stared before flipping it open. "Hey Bobby."

"One of you idjits wanna explain the picture of Sam someone just sent to me?" Bobby's voice growled through the phone.

Dean lowered it slightly and looked up at his brother, trying and failing to smother the fresh gales of laughter. "I don't…have to tell him. The Trickster sent it to him."

"Son of a bitch!" Sam shouted, using his brother's favorite epithet. He dropped his head in disgust while Dean laughed and he could hear Bobby's tinny voice laughing from the phone as well. "You suck. You all suck." Sam grumbled and thought the Trickster was wise not to show his face just then while he was holding a rifle.

Dean tucked his phone away and carefully took the rifle back from his glowering brother, still laughing. He straightened Sam as he listed to the side again. "Come on, sasquatch. You need a shower." Dean had to look away, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "It's melting into your hair." The inarticulate growling cry of frustration Sam let loose set him off again. "Really do like his style."

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_The End._


	2. For LeighAnnWallace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Info: For LeighAnnWallace - Some Teenchester? How about Dean having to bail Sam out of trouble with the authorities. Sam gets in trouble, your choice how much and whether it's school or cops and what happened, how serious it is. John's nowhere around (of course, the rat!) so Dean has to get him out of it.
> 
> A/N: Sam 9/Dean 13

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Sam sat in the Principal's office and quaked in his chair, terrified. The Principal gave him another heated look as he dialed Sam's home phone and waited.

"Our Dad's out of town." Sam said softly, making himself smaller in the chair. "On business. My b-brother…"

"Your father couldn't leave proper contact information?" The Principal glared at him. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised considering how you've turned out."

"But sir…" Sam felt tears gathering in his eyes again.

"I don't want to hear your ridiculous story again, you little hooligan." The Principal slammed the phone down. "I'll go get your brother. He can sit with you until the police arrive." He smiled a sickening smile at Sam. "And then I'm sure I'll never be seeing your face again."

Sam watched him go and then pulled his legs up into the chair to wrap his arms around his knees and buried his head in them. He hissed in pain and picked his head back up, his left eye hurting. He waited for what seemed hours but was only minutes until the door opened again. He heard the Principal's voice, hard and angry and satisfied.

"Your brother attacked a teacher young man. The Police have been called."

"Bullshit!" Dean's voice carried through the door and made Sam smile at the complete disbelief he heard in it.

"You WILL watch your language, Mr. Winchester." The Principal warned. "The Police will take him. I imagine your brother will go to Juvenile hall. Several years as a ward of the state should do him some good. You can sit with him until they get here."

Sam glanced up, his hair falling over his eyes to watch Dean stalk into the room. The door slammed shut behind him and Dean came to kneel in front him.

"Hey, midget." Dean smiled and ruffled a hand through Sam's hair. "What…" He stopped and took Sam's chin, tilting his head up into the light; Sam's left eye was unmistakably blackened and swelling. Dean's face darkened with a rage even as he gentled the hand on Sam's chin. "What happened?" Sam sniffed and launched himself at his big brother, finally feeling safe as his arms came around to hug him tight. "Ok, tiger. It's ok." Dean soothed. "Just tell me what happened."

"Mr. Darby was hitting Joe." Sam felt his tears falling again and couldn't help them. He heard Dean growl in his chest and nodded. Mr. Darby, his Math teacher had been a constant thorn in his side for the two months they'd been at that school. He didn't like Sam or Dean and was cruel to most of his students. "He was hitting him after class. He knocked him down." Sam sniffled. "I stopped him." He looked up into Dean's understanding, green eyes. "I couldn't just let him do it, Dean. I couldn't."

"Of course you couldn't, Sammy." Dean smoothed his shaggy hair back from his little brother's face.

"I knocked him down and…and…he got back up and started screaming and Joe ran away and then the other teachers came and the Principal came and…and Mr. Darby told them me and Joe attacked him. We didn't, Dean! I swear we didn't!"

"Hey, hey. It's not your fault, man. It's gonna be ok." Dean hugged him tighter and rested his chin in Sam's hair. He looked around the Principal's office and tried to reign in his own panic; they didn't have time for it. He knew how this would go down. The word of two students against a teacher; they'd never believe that Sam had been saving the other kid from the teacher. Terror ran through him at the thought of losing Sam into the system forever. They'd run from places before for the same reason when they worried Child Protective Services might come looking at them. Their Dad was rarely home because of the nature of his job. Dean took a deep breath and sighed it out.

"Ok, kiddo. We're getting out of here." Dean told him. He stood bringing Sam with him until he was standing as well.

"Out of school?" Sam looked up at him and Dean shook his head.

"Out of this town." Dean smiled to try and reassure him. He pulled Sam over to the window, grateful the Principal's office was on the first floor. He cracked it open and then pushed it up. "Out you go." Dean lifted Sam into the window and held his arms as he dropped to the ground below. Poor kid had yet to really sprout. He was still four feet of nothing much to Sam's dismay. "Move over." Dean said softly and followed him, dropping down beside his brother. "Ok." He took Sam's hand and took off at a run toward the woods beside the school. They stretched all the way around town and to the back of the little house they were staying in. He didn't dare take Sam on the streets with the Police already coming. They sprinted across the open expanse of lawn, Dean feeling at every moment as if someone were watching and waited to hear an alarm go up but it didn't. They reached the woods without incident and he sighed in relief as they ducked into them and out of sight. It'd take them a few hours, the woods being a much more circuitous route but it was the only safe way.

He kept up their fast pace, wary of someone finding them missing and deciding the woods were a good place to look. When Sam started to falter at his side, Dean scooped him up and swung him onto his back. Once they'd gotten a half mile or so from the school he slowed the pace and let Sam back down. "You ok, Sammy?"

Sam nodded up at him with wide, frightened eyes. "Yeah."

Dean nodded. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and hastily dialed their father's number. He listened to it ring and ring and go to voicemail. "Dammit." He breathed. Quickly, he left a message detailing what had happened and that he'd taken Sam and run. He flipped the phone closed and put it back in his pocket, trying not to feel abandoned. Dad never answered his phone, ever. He didn't know why he thought this time would be any different. He just hoped he would call back soon. He didn't want to be in charge. He was just as scared as Sam. There was still a part of him that wanted Dad to sail in and make everything alright.

He stiffened his shoulders, straightened his back. Dad wasn't there and that left him. "When we get to the house, Sam. I want you stay back in the woods ok?" Dean looked down at him and got a shaky nod. "Hey."

Sam looked up, the shine of unshed tears in his eyes. "S'my fault, Dean." Sam said miserably. "We're gonna have to leave and everything and Dad doesn't even know and it's my fault and he's gonna be so mad, Dean."

Dean scooped him up and held him while he walked. "Dad's not gonna be mad, Sammy." Dean meant to talk to Dad first and make sure he didn't even think of getting angry with the kid; he was miserable enough already. "That teacher lied and that kid? He left you holding the bag, little dude. Not your fault. You did a good thing." He smiled down at him. "Besides, once Dad sees that shiner he's gonna know they're full of crap." He swallowed the familiar swirl of anger that someone had hurt his little brother. "We're gonna be fine. I promise."

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Dean and Sam crouched in the screening bushes at the edge of the woods behind their little house and watched. The last rays of the sun we're just beginning to sink away and if you didn't look too hard, it almost looked cozy. The little two story house with its falling down shutters, paint flaked siding and the stupid window in their bedroom that never closed all the way. Dean was counting on that window now as he looked. There was a police cruiser in their driveway. The Police had beaten them home and obviously found out the boys had vanished at the school. He felt Sam shiver under his arm and squeezed him tighter.

"They're gonna take me away, aren't they?" Sam whispered fearfully.

"Not gonna happen." Dean assured him. "Come on." He moved Sam back into the woods away from the house and found a comfortably spot in the hollow of a dead tree. He settled in with Sam against him and waited for night to fall.

He waited hours after darkness had fallen, trying several more times to reach their Dad to no avail. Whatever he was hunting, he wasn't bothering to take time to listen to his messages as usual. Dean nudged Sam's shoulder beside him.

"Sammy. You're gonna stay here." Dean told him and shook his head when Sam opened his mouth to argue. "No way. They find me I can play dumb. They don't want me. You're not goin' anywhere near the house. Got me?" Sam nodded after a moment with a rebellious look on his face. "Good. Stay here. Stay quiet. I'm gonna get our stuff."

He gave Sam a last one-armed hug and then climbed out of the hollow stump to head back to the house. There wasn't much to see in the darkness. The Police cruiser had moved, no longer in the driveway. Dean jogged quickly to the back of the house and peered around the side. The cruiser was parked across the street and he could see two heads in the window. He smiled. They'd have been a problem if they'd stayed in the driveway. He turned back and stared up at their bedroom above. The window was canted open slightly like it always was. He smiled and climbed quickly up the trellis hugging the back of the house.

He'd used it many times already to get out and in without their Dad knowing and he smirked thinking of the last time; Sheila had been worth it. Dean balanced at the top of the trellis and pushed the window open all the way and climbed in. He wasted no time and pulled his and Sam's duffels from under their beds. Being on the move so much sucked but he was glad for the habits it taught them as he packed up their room. They really never spread out wherever they lived. Most of their belongings only left their bags when they needed them and it made packing everything up now that much easier. He made sure to collect Sam's books from the top of his dresser and stuffed them in his bag. Sam would never forgive him if they got left behind.

Dean hefted both bags and took them downstairs. He was grateful they always kept the curtains pulled on the front of the house; it left no chance the cops would see him as he went past to the back of the house and set their bags down by the door. He jogged back upstairs and made as quick work of packing up their Dad's room. With Dad gone on a hunt, most of the weapons were with him and Dean stuffed the remaining shotgun, handgun and knives into his Father's bag and carried that down as well. It took him another five minutes to grab their few belongings around the house and shove them in one of Sam's book bags. All the while he was alert for any noise, any chance that one of the cops decided to take a closer look.

He unlocked the dead bolt on the back door and eased it open to peer out. The backyard was as empty as it had been when he came in. Dean hefted three of the bags onto his shoulders and stepped out into the night, pulling the door closed silently behind him and then jogged back into the trees and Sam.

"Sammy?" He called quietly and smirked as his little brother's head popped up from inside the tree. Even in the dark Dean could see his eyes were wide with relief. "Hey kiddo." Dean set the bags beside the tree and clasped Sam's shoulder. "Gotta make one more trip. Couldn't carry everything at once."

"Are there Officers there?" Sam asked and looked past him as though he could see through the trees.

Dean nodded. "Yeah but they're sleepin' out front." He smiled. "No worries. Get ready cause we're moving again when I get back."

"Ok." Sam said with complete trust and climbed out of the tree stump as Dean turned and headed back.

Dean took another long look into the back yard before jogging across to the house. He slipped in the back and tossed his Dad's bag and Sam's backpack over his arm before going back outside.

"Hey! Stop right there!"

Dean froze and groaned, mentally slapping himself for not checking first. He turned slowly and found one of the Officers standing only a few feet away. He snarled as the cop shined his light into his eyes.  
"Problem, Officer?" Dean asked and forced a smile.

"You live here?" The Officer shined the light on his face again and Dean was glad he never showed up for school pictures; they probably didn't have one. "Nuh-uh. Friends with the oldest though. Dean?" He said and the cop nodded.

"Where is he? Is his little brother with him?" The Officer relaxed slightly and didn't say anything as Dean stepped down into the grass closer to him. "We're looking for him."

"Gosh, no Officer." Dean shook his head. "We uh…had a sleep over the other night. Forgot my stuff." He hefted the bags and smiled. "Just wanted to come back and get 'em before my Dad finds out. He'd be pissed."

"There's no one home." The Officer looked suddenly suspicious. "How'd you get in?"

"Back door was open." Dean shrugged. "Usually is." He watched the cop reason it through and sighed. If he left, the cop was going to go in and find the place empty. If he took him out his partner would eventually come looking for him and find the same.

"I think you should come with me." The Officer said finally.

Dean steeled himself and knew that he had no choice now. He couldn't leave Sam on his own out there. "Sorry." Dean dropped the bags and kicked out his right leg, taking the officer in the stomach. It doubled him over and Dean used the moment of surprise to plow his fist into the side of his head. The cop crumpled and fell, limp.

Dean shook out his hand and picked the bags back up. "Hard head." He muttered and took off at a run for the woods. He dashed through the trees and skidded to a stop at the stump. Sam stood beside it with one bag on each shoulder and the third at his feet.

"Time to go." Dean said breathlessly. He smiled to keep Sam from asking if something had happened. He picked up the bag at Sam's feet and hefted it with the others.

"No problems?" Sam asked and let Dean take his hand, leading him deeper into the woods and away from their house.

Dean shrugged under the weight of the bags and smiled for him again. "Nope. They never had a clue."

"Cool." Sam looked up at him in admiration; making Dean squirm but he'd never tell Sam he had to attack a cop to get him away. "Gonna be a long walk, buddy." Dean said as they trudged through the dark. He wasn't willing to risk a flashlight yet this close to home. "We're gonna head for the park you like."

Sam smiled and nodded. He was still terrified but having his hand in Dean's made him feel better. Dean wouldn't let anything happen to him. "Will Dad be there?"

Dean sighed. "I don't know, Sammy. Maybe." He took his phone out and called their Dad again. He left another short message to tell him where they'd be and put the phone away.

To his credit Sam made it an entire mile under the weight of the two bags he carried before he started flagging and hunched beneath them. Dean had chuckled and taken one, adding it to his own burden. He knew Sam was as exhausted as he was but he kept walking and kept hold of his big brother's hand so he wouldn't lag behind. He was so proud of the kid for the way he'd handled himself through the day. He figured other kids would probably have had crying fits by now or just sat down and given up but Sam kept fighting.

It was after three in the morning when they neared the park Dean had chosen. Sam was almost asleep on his feet and Dean steered him to a stand of trees. "Hey, Sammy." Dean smirked as bleary eyes blinked up at him. "We're here." He pushed gently on Sam's shoulder until he sat and leaned back against one of the trees.

"Sonf'abitch." Sam muttered, mimicking his brother as he wiped a hand across his sweaty forehead. "M'tired."

Dean smothered a laugh and ruffled his hair fondly. He dropped his own bags beside Sam and knelt next to him. "You can sleep soon, kiddo. Need ya to keep an eye on the bags for a minute, ok?"

Sam nodded earnestly. "I can do that."

"Good. I'm gonna go find us a car." Dean smirked when Sam's brows rose.

"Dude. You're gonna steal one?" Sam asked and Dean nodded.

"Can't stay here, Sammy." Dean said, suddenly serious. "I gotta get us outta here til Dad comes so…we're gonna borrow someone's car."

Sam nodded. "I understand." And he did. Dean was still working to save him because he'd saved the boy earlier.

"Be right back." Dean squeezed his shoulder and took off at a jog. He really didn't want to jack someone's car, not when the police were looking for them but Dad wasn't answering and if they stayed….he wouldn't finish the thought. He wouldn't even consider letting Sam be taken away from him and thrown in the cold hands of the Juvie system. "Not gonna happen." He repeated what he'd said earlier as an affirmation and headed for the park and ride lot he knew was at the edge of the park. It was why he'd chosen this one. He knew people stored their cars here sometimes when they got on a bus. Sure enough there were over a dozen cars in the lot. He studied them for a moment and then headed for the one that looked like it hadn't been moved in a while. That meant the owner probably wasn't looking for it anytime soon.

It was a little Ford and he turned his nose up at it but beggars couldn't be choosers. Dean once again wished his Dad would give up and just let him have a license and a car already. They wouldn't have had this problem if he had. He could have had Sam out of harm's way hours ago if he'd just had a damn car. His nerves made him want to just smash in a window and get them moving again but he reigned it in; two kids driving in a car with a broken window was bound to draw attention.

Instead he went over to the sign at the edge of the lot. Dean ducked behind one of the parked cars as headlights grew and quickly passed. He stood back up and reached up to one of the thin, metal struts holding the sign in place. It took him a moment but he managed to rip it from its mooring. He jogged back to his chosen car and slipped the thin piece of metal down into the driver's side door. After a little jiggling he grinned as he caught the lock and popped it up.

Dean tossed the metal aside and got in, hastily bending beneath the dash and pulling out the wires he'd need. In moments the car's engine grumbled to life and he pulled the driver's door shut. He ran the wipers for a second to clear off the early morning dew that had already gathered on the windshield and moved the car out and into the park.

He pulled up just beyond where he'd left Sam and popped the trunk before running back into the woods. "Sammy?" Dean slowed as he neared the little grouping of trees amid the others and smirked. Sam had fallen asleep wrapped around one of the duffels, his head resting on another. Dean leaned down and gently shook him awake.

"I wasn' sleeping." Sam said hurriedly as he woke to find Dean standing over him.

"Course not." Dean grinned. "Come on. Got a car." Dean grabbed all but one of the bags, lumbering under the weight and left Sam to carry out the last. His nerves were singing with tension with every step. He expected every moment for there to be flashing lights with cops swarming down on them. He slammed the trunk shut on the bags and shepherded Sam into the passenger seat before running back around to the driver's side and sliding in. He left the park quickly behind and headed out of town. Dean fought every nerve that screamed at him to floor it and speed away from danger but calling attention to them was the last thing he wanted. He pulled his phone out of his pocket again and scowled at the lack of messages. Dad still hadn't called him back. Dean looked over and Sam was already asleep again, head resting against the bottom of the window.

Dean couldn't stop the little rebellious voice that said their Dad should have been there to take care of them, that a thirteen year old shouldn't be left alone to deal with this sort of thing. More than anything just then he wanted to be able to be a kid and let Dad 'fix' everything.

"Dammit." He muttered and put his phone away. "Wishing don't solve crap." Dean said softly and put his eyes back on the road. He drove them three towns over, only then deciding they had come far enough to avoid being caught up. The little town was smaller than the one they'd left and he quickly found the only motel as the sky began to lighten toward dawn. He knew he had just enough cash left from when Dad had left to give them one night. He gave a last glance at Sam, still sound asleep and dashed into the motel's office to rent them a room.

Dean pulled the car around the back of the motel and made quick work of unloading their bags into the crappy little room with a threadbare carpet and not even a tv. He went back out and picked Sam up out of his seat, carrying him inside. He set his little brother on the far bed long enough to pull off his jacket and then laid him down and covered him. Sam was so exhausted he barely twitched through it all and Dean smiled sadly at him. The now livid black eye stood out on Sam's pale face and he brushed gentle fingers across it before he took his phone out again. He went into the bathroom and dialed their Dad again and again only received the voice mail.

"Dad. We had to leave. I uh…I had to punch out a cop." Dean paused and studied himself in the cracked mirror. "They were gonna take me away and Sam would have been on his own. I had to. I had to get him out of there." Anger welled up in him suddenly. "You should have been here. You should have at least called me the hell back!" He heaved a few deep breaths, trying to settle his temper. "He's scared to death…so am I. The teacher hit him, Dad and all he did was try to protect someone." Dean leaned forward and rested his head on the mirror. He quickly told his Dad where to find them, the town, the room and then stood back to glare in the mirror. "I only had enough money for this one night so maybe you can find the time to get here before we're sleeping in the car on the street somewhere."

Dean flipped the phone closed and squeezed it in his fist until his knuckles whitened before he went back out into the room. He checked the locks on the door and window, tossed his phone onto the nightstand and sighed as Sam began to mumble fearfully in his sleep. Dean flicked off the light and pulled off his jacket and boots, tossing them aside. He climbed onto the bed next to Sam and pulled him in under his arm.

"It's ok, Sammy. I'm here." Dean said softly. After a moment, Sam's head turned into his chest. He gave a deep breath and settled back to sound sleep. "I've got you."

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_The End._


	3. For ephiny63

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Info: For ephiny63 – some hurt/tortured Sam, strong even when he wants to give up, vulnerable!Dean trying to help Sam while dealing with his own injury/issues. NO Cas. Maybe Sam badly injured, has to find Bobby and Dean. Any season but 4. Basically angst, H/C, brotherly love, blood and guts and awesome Uncle Bobby with Sam saving them even though he's in really bad shape himself.
> 
> A/N: Set in season 6, re-souled Sam.

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"You know, one of these days I want hunt somethin' that decided to live in a mansion." Bobby groused as they approached the abandoned meat packing plant. "With a stocked bar."

Sam chuckled and shared an amused look with his brother. "You sure this Ghoul is shacking up here?" He asked with a look over his shoulder to their adoptive father.

Bobby nodded. "Yep. Chased him in here last night." He scowled. "Place is too damn big to search myself."

"Hey, you need us we're here." Dean smiled at him. "I'm always up to gank a Ghoul." He said fiercely and Sam nodded in agreement. They both had their reasons to dislike the things.

The plant rose up darkly in the night. Very few lights shined on or in the building; only the emergency lights were running these days. The high chainlink fence that ran around the massive building was in bad repair; whole sections cut away by kids no doubt looking for somewhere to cause trouble and not get caught. It was two stories and they knew from Bobby's research that there was a basement level as well. They slipped through a gap in the fence and went quickly to a side door. Bobby had jimmied the lock and stuck his head in the night before and then decided he wanted some backup. He eased the door open quietly and let the boys step in ahead of him.

"Start at the top?" Sam asked and gestured to a small open to their left with a ladder leading to the upper floors.

"Bobby search the main floor and I'll take the basement." Dean nodded to Sam. "Maybe you'll spot something up there."

"Sounds like a plan." Bobby clapped Sam on the shoulder as he turned and went to the ladder. "Come on, son." He gave Dean a little push forward. "Basement access is on the other side somewhere I think."

"You think?" Dean asked as he watched Sam's legs vanish out of view.

"Blueprints for this place weren't exactly detailed." Bobby shrugged and walked beside him, senses alert in case the Ghoul suddenly popped out. The long hall ended at a door and he shoved it open. Though the packing plant was long disused the distinct smell of rotted flesh still clung to it, making them wrinkle their noses.

"Not all of that smell is old." Dean said in a low voice and saw the agreement in Bobby's eyes. A fetid stench wafted out of the big room to them in the door. "There's a fresh kill here somewhere."

"Probably more than one." Bobby nodded. The area in front of them was large and open. Old, rusting tables stood in rows. Hooks hung down from the ceiling far above. He glanced up for any sign of the younger Winchester up there and saw a dark shadow easing along the walkway above.

Dean hefted his shotgun and went further into the room. He was looking forward to knocking the head off the Ghoul when they found it. He breathed through his mouth rather than his nose as the foul stench of rotting flesh grew stronger. "Bobby." He hissed softly and nodded toward a hole in the floor near the side of the room. The smell seemed to be emanating from there. Both men walked wide around the tables with their high edges; each table had a drain giving silent evidence to their once macabre function and Dean couldn't help but wonder how many animals had met their end there only to end up on his plate somewhere else. He swallowed hard against the sudden stab of nausea and promised to apologize to the next burger he ate.

"Gah." Bobby said as he leaned over to look down and held his nose. The whole was a charnel pit. Several bodies in various stages of decomposition lay in the bottom among the twisted remains of a girder from the walkway above. He shined his flashlight over them and swallowed hard. There were clear marks of teeth where something had gnawed at them before tossing them in; one missing a leg, another a wide hole in his chest. He hoped they hadn't been alive when they were thrown down there.

"This is…" Dean broke off and his head whipped up. The sound of a commotion clanged down from above them. He heard Sam's voice shout. "Sam?" Dean yelled. He saw a figure through the small holes of the catwalk above and then another wrestling with him. "Sam!"

"Come on." Bobby stepped back to retrace their steps and then stood frozen in horror as Sam appeared flying over the edge of the catwalk; falling.

Dean could only watch as Sam plummeted down. He vainly put a hand out, hoping to catch him; his arm, a sleeve something. He felt the fabric of Sam's jacket brush the ends of his fingers as he blurred past and then there was a sickening crash. Dean dropped to his knees at the edge of the hole.

"Sam!" Bobby shouted. He stood over Dean and shined his light back into the hole not really wanting to see. Sam lay in the bottom, body arched over one of the steel beams, a sliver of metal protruding from his side, another from his leg and he was still; so still it made Bobby's heart ache.

"Sammy." Dean breathed. There was so much blood and he felt his own rush from his head in fear. "I have to get down there." He spun back to Bobby and gasped. "Bobby!" He threw a hand out in warning as a figure rose up behind the older Hunter.

Bobby could feel the movement at his back. He turned, feeling as though he were in slow motion as he brought the shotgun's muzzle up. He heard Dean curse behind him and the sound of a shotgun blast echoed in his ears and the plant. Bobby pulled the trigger on his own gun, taking pleasure when half the Ghoul's face vanished in a shower of red. He kicked the body away and then grunted in surprise as he was tackled from the side. Surprise turned to pain as his side connected with one of the long tables. He saw a few feet away Dean being dragged down beneath the weight of two more Ghouls and inwardly cursed himself for being an old fool.

"More than one." Bobby groaned angrily.

"Surprise." The Ghoul that tackled him grinned and the last Bobby saw was its fist coming for his jaw.

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Dean pulled angrily at the ropes binding him to the table. His body sang with bruises; the Ghouls had not been gentle in taking him down. He had killed one, Bobby another and the three remaining had overpowered him. His mind was still back in the hole with his brother, his broken brother. He couldn't push the blood from his mind or the terrible stillness of his body. He turned his head and took some solace in the sight of Bobby tied to the table beside him, chest moving with easy breaths as he lay still unconscious.

"Bobby." Dean said softly.

"Hit him harder than I meant to." One of the Ghouls stepped into Dean's line of sight and grinned. "Don't worry. We won't start on him til he wakes up. No fun if he aint awake. You on the other hand…" The Ghoul raised a small knife and laid it on his throat. He smiled at Dean with someone else's brown eyes as he quickly tore down through Dean's shirt and opened it, leaving his chest bare. "Think I'm wearing the wrong body. Should'a chewed on the girl we caught yesterday." He grinned again and dragged the blade down the left of his chest. Dean flinched, growling in anger as blood welled up to run warm down his side.

"Son of a bitch." Dean ground out between clenched teeth. "I get off this table I'm tearin' you and all your friends to pieces!"

The Ghoul laughed at him as his two friends came out of the shadows. One was a young woman with matted blonde hair and the other and older man with a wizened face who grinned at Dean with what could only be hunger.

"Gonna be your pieces joinin' the other guys in the hole when we're done with you." The woman said as she came forward and plunged a small knife into his calf before bending and slurping greedily at the blood that welled to the surface.

Dean turned to look at Bobby again and silently willed his friend to stay asleep. 'Please don't let him wake up to this.' Dean prayed in his head and was almost glad Sam wouldn't have to go through something like this again.

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It was the smell that dragged him away from the sweet oblivion that had cradled him. It burned his nose, sat on his tongue like the taste of something foul and dead and he gagged as his eyes finally opened. It was dark. Only the dimmest light reached him from above; one of the emergency lights hung high above him and Sam squinted up at it and tried to remember what had happened. Bobby's face swam before him, then Dean's. There was a large building…a meat packing plant he told himself. He vaguely remembered climbing a ladder and nothing after that; only darkness. He tried to remember why it was they had gone there in the first place and one word sang through his mind; Ghoul!

Sam tried to jerk upright and a guttural scream tore itself from him as pain laid him low and took him under to blackness. When he blinked his eyes open again he had no idea how long he had been out. The light was the same and the stench still assaulted his senses. He carefully raised his head to look down at himself and saw something that took him a moment to understand; a piece of metal jutted from his left side. He raised a shaking hand to touch the tip of the metal and came away with his own blood. He looked to the side and only barely managed to stop himself from jerking away again. A bloated face leered back at him with a single, dead eye. Beyond it laid another, held up at a sickening angle as another piece of metal pierced the young woman's body through the chest.

"God." Sam gasped and closed his eyes. "Dean." He tried to call his brother but his voice rose barely above a whisper. A sudden sound came to him and he strained to hear it; it had been his brother's voice. He listened and as he heard it again and realized it was Dean calling out in pain.

"No." Sam said hoarsely. The Ghoul must have him, he thought, him and Bobby. He remembered the one time he had been at the mercy of a Ghoul…two ghouls and shuddered. They had worn the faces of his half-brother Adam and Adam's mother. He would never forget the feeling of his life pulsing out from his arms; the sheer hopelessness of knowing Dean wasn't coming to save him except he had. Sam groaned and braced one arm on the ground. Dean had come for him in spite of what the Ghouls had said and he would do no less now. He would not leave his brother to their mercies.

Sam braced himself and pushed. The pain was almost more than he could bear, threatening to suck him down again and again as he worked himself up off the spear of metal. When he finally did, when it finally slid free of his side with a sickening, sucking sound, he fell to the side and then shouted in agony as his right thigh screamed at him. It too had been speared through. The metal strut had snapped off as he toppled to his side. He squirmed out of his jacket and did his best to ignore the cold, wet fluids he was lying in. He couldn't think about them or he'd throw up and end up face down in them. Sam got his jacket off and then stripped off his overshirt. He heard the sound of Dean's voice raised in pain again and it spurred him on. The loss of blood made him lightheaded and weak. He used the metal that had impaled him to tear his shirt into strips.

He spent several aggravating minutes tying a strip around his waist to hold two impromptu bandages against the open wounds in his front and back. Once that was done he turned to look at his leg and felt fear rise up. The metal had entered the back of his thigh and came out the front. It poked through the inside, in the meaty portion of the muscle and he was honestly afraid to remove it, fearing that it might be too close to the femoral artery. If he removed it he could bleed out long before he reached Dean.

"Ok." He muttered and instead packed another length of torn shirt around the metal spike. He used the last of his shirt to wrap it in place and hold it as still as he could. Sam looked up to the walls of the hole. They were sheer and a good ten feet. Maybe if he weren't near collapsing already he could have jumped and gotten hold of the edge but in his condition it wasn't possible. He saw the shadow of something against the wall. Sam reached a hand out and found it was a chain hanging down along the side. He gave it a pull and it stayed taught.

Sam used it to pull himself to his knees. He had to stop and breathe, just breathe through the horrendous pain and the blackness that crept in on him. The sound of a new voice that he recognized as Bobby's pulled him back. He took a firmer grip on the chain, determined to save them and began the laborious task of pulling himself up. He had only gained a few feet when he lost his grip and fell back. Sam crumpled with a short cry, his head resting against the wall as he sobbed air in and out. It was too much. He felt a tear slide down his cheek. He couldn't do it.

"Sorry, Dean." He whispered softly, only his dead, decaying companions there to hear his misery. Sam was a failure; he'd never felt that so completely as he did at that moment. "I can't." He rested his forehead against the cool metal and could only focus on the agonies in his side and leg. Another shout from his brother broke into his self-loathing and he tilted his head up. He stared upward for a moment and then thudded his head into the metal once.

"Get off your ass, Sam." He told himself. He pushed the doubts and the pain aside and grasped the chain again. He would not leave his brother to suffer nor Bobby; not if he could save them.

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Bobby panted, heaving for air against the nausea as the oldest of the three Ghouls fed from his left arm. The feeling was stomach churning, tongue and teeth digging in to the wound he had cut there. "Get the hell off me you sick…" He was cut off as the other man dropped a hard slap to the side of his head.

"Shut up, meat." He glared at Bobby. "Only sounds we wanna hear outta you are screams."

"This one's tasty." The woman licked her lips and stood beside Dean.

Dean was in a fog of pain and disgust. She had kissed him lustily with the taste of his own blood on her lips. He had more holes in him than he liked, he'd lost count of how many times they'd made little stab wounds, delighting in causing him pain without actually threatening his life. There had been one moment where they argued amongst themselves who would get to feed on him, to take his likeness and memories. Dean had vainly hoped they'd come to blows over it, maybe take each other out but in the end the woman had won and shouted down the other two. He couldn't hold back the groan when she dug her fingers into the gash on his shoulder.

"Bitch." Dean glared up at her even as she wavered in his vision. He wanted to be free. He wanted to be able to go see his brother, to know for sure if he had lost him. He had to know. Bobby, he knew, felt the same way. Dean had seen a tear track down the older man's face and knew it had nothing to do with what the Ghoul's were doing. It was for Sam. Dean closed his eyes tight. He'd failed him in every way possible, his little brother back from Hell, reunited with his soul and now dead because Dean had been foolish enough to let him go off on his own.

"Not your fault, Dean." Bobby said suddenly and Dean whipped his head over to see him looking at him. "S'mine. Didn't do the job."

"Bullshit, Bobby." Dean said angrily. "Don't you dare."

"What's this?" The woman leaned over him, smiling. "Family drama? You and Daddy having an argument?"

"Piss off." Bobby growled over at her and hissed in a breath as one of the men sliced into his shoulder.

"Leave him alone!" Dean shouted angrily. He'd had enough suddenly and wanted it over with. He jerked in his bonds in shock as the boom of a shotgun went off. The woman standing over him was thrown backward as her head erupted in a cloud of a red. A moment later there was a second shot and the younger of the two men lost his head the same way. Dean watched as the last Ghoul, the young man sprinted out of his sight with a cry of rage. "What the hell?" Dean asked.

"I dunno." Bobby strained in his bonds, trying to see over his shoulder but the edge of the table was too high. There was the sound of a scuffle and then a cry that made his eyes widen in hope he almost feared to listen too. "Sam?" He called and flinched when the shotgun went off again. He could hear someone shuffling brokenly over the cement floor, heard a grunt of pain and then there he was; his little brother limping into his line of sight, covered in blood, pale beyond belief beneath it and eyes dull with pain as he came to rest on the edge of Dean's table.

"Dean." Sam said weakly, his voice was little more than a whisper. He laid Dean's own shotgun on the table next to him and then fumbled with nerveless fingers to untie Dean's left arm.

"Sam. You ok?" Dean asked the ridiculous question, unable to stop himself. He pulled when he felt the rope loosen and his hand slipped free at last. He turned to untie his other hand as Sam slumped out of view to the floor.

"Sam! Son, you just hang on." Bobby said from the other table. He desperately needed to be free and silently urged Dean to hurry. He and Dean shared matching looks of shock that Sam had survived the fall and the wounds they had both seen; even more that he somehow managed to come and rescue them.

Dean took up the small knife the woman had left on the table and sliced the ropes from his legs. He rolled off the table and swayed with pain, bracing himself on its edge. "Crap." Dean turned as quick as he dared and went to Bobby. He cut his arm free and handed him the knife so he could free himself before he ran around the other table and slid to the ground next to his brother.

"Sam." Dean slid an arm over his shoulders and pulled him in, ignoring his own pain. His eyes widened as he saw the metal standing out from Sam's thigh, a blood soaked, makeshift tourniquet wrapped around it. More blood colored his side. "Sammy?"

"Yeah. I'm here." Sam blinked his eyes open again. He had been close to letting himself slip away again. He needed to sleep so very badly.

"Don't let him go to sleep." Bobby ordered as he hobbled around the table, one hand pressed to his shoulder. He knelt and took quick stock of the youngest Winchester's condition and didn't like what he saw. "He needs a hospital, Dean. Now."

"We're gonna get you outta here, Sam." Dean tried to stand and felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. He sucked it back, having no time for it. He looked up when Bobby's hands took his arm and pulled.

"Come on, son." Bobby tugged him until he was standing and then helped to get Sam on his feet.

Sam's legs immediately went back out on him. He sagged and was grateful for the arms that caught him and supported him on both sides. "Sorry." He said softly, feeling useless.

"Shut up, Sam." Dean said gruffly. As bad as Sam looked he still felt an indefinable happiness to have Sam alive and leaning heavily against him. "Watch the leg." Dean warned Bobby as they started forward. Dean pulled his shotgun off the table as they left. The fresh blood that he felt warming his right side made him worry however. Sam had lost too much already. He gave Sam a light shake when he saw his eyes beginning to droop. "No sleeping."

Sam nodded but said nothing. It was taking all his strength to even move his legs the little he was managing as they dragged him through the plant and back out into the cool night air. It felt good on his face that he realized was warmer than it should be. His eyes drifted closed again and he couldn't stop them. He felt a hand on his face, turning his head.

"Sam, come on. Open your eyes." Dean begged as Bobby opened the Impala's door to the backseat. "Crap, Bobby."

"He'll be fine." Bobby said and meant it. He wasn't going to allow it to be any other way. "Help me get him in."

Dean handed Sam to Bobby and crawled in the back seat. He reached back out and took his brother's shoulders to pull him in. "You drive." Dean was afraid to leave Sam alone in the backseat with nothing for him to hold on to and keep him there. He pulled Sam in so he rested against Dean's chest and held him tight to keep him from shifting as the car moved. Bobby carefully put Sam's right leg on the seat, doing his best not to shift the metal splinter and then closed the back door after laying a hand on Sam's dark hair for a moment.

"It's gonna be ok, Sammy." Dean let his head roll into his shoulder. "You hear me?" He felt Sam give him a weak nod and smiled in relief. "Don't you check out on me."

"Wont." Sam whispered, hearing the need in his brother's voice. The pain had become a constant throb through his body but the buzzing in his head was becoming all he could hear anymore. He knew it was the copious amounts of blood he had left behind; the blood he could still feel seeping from his side and leg. Distantly he wondered if Dean would be irritated that Sam was ruining his clothes and then remembered his shirt was already ruined, sliced open.

"Sam." Dean rested a hand on his chest over his heart. "Come on, buddy. Just crack one eye for me."

"How's he doing?" Bobby asked from the front seat as he sped along the darkened, empty streets toward the nearest hospital. He could see the side of Sam's face in the rearview mirror and the pallor scared him along with the look of contained panic on Dean's.

"He'll make it." Dean said and looked down at Sam. "You hear me? You'll make it."

Sam gave a weak smile and felt the fist clenched against his chest relax. "Stubborn."

"You bet your ass, Sammy." Dean grinned. He looked up to see they were nearly at the Hospital, the lights from the Emergency Room showed in the distance. "Almost there."

Sam finally managed to open his eyes with great effort to look up at Dean's worried green ones staring down at him. "I can…handle it."

Dean swallowed a lump in his throat and ran a hand through Sam's shaggy hair as his eyes closed again. "Yeah, I know you can, kid." His little brother, who had survived so much, beat the Devil at his own game and come back from the Cage was not going to give in to some lousy Ghouls.

"He's a Winchester, Dean." Bobby said from the front seat and smirked at him in the mirror. "Not a one of ya ever learned how to give up."

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_The End._


	4. For emebalia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Info: For emebalia - season 2, Stanford friend(s), outsider POV
> 
> A/N: Set post 2x12 "Nightshifter" It's short, I know but it wrote itself that way. Lol I hope it's alright anyway

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Joel sat in front of the television in mute shock. His jaw hung open, his eyes wide as he stared at the news report. "No way." He said finally, softly. "No freakin' way!" On the screen was a picture of his once good friend, Sam Winchester. Beside it a picture of the brother he'd only rarely heard of and the report…He grabbed up his DVR remote and rewound it, needing to see it again. The news reporter gave solemn words to a bank robbery that had ended in death and mayhem with Sam and his brother as the masterminds. He couldn't believe it no matter how many images they showed from inside the bank.

"This is impossible." He remembered Sam from their days at college, at Stanford. He had always been so…so genuine; calm, quiet, easy to laugh and quick to defend his friends. "Gotta be a mistake." He muttered as they said his name. Sam Winchester. "Oh god." Joel sat back with a thump. "This can't be real." He thought back to the day of the fire, the day Jess had died and sighed. No one had seen Sam after that. He'd just vanished for months. Joel had heard through the friend grapevine that Becky had seen him in the last year but apparently she was talking much about it, only saying Sam and his brother had saved her. He knew Becky's brother had been in some sort of trouble and recalled suddenly seeing something about Dean Winchester dying and he looked back up the screen, confused. He shook his head. He must be remembering it wrong.

"Damn, Sam. What'd you get into?" Joel asked the screen and froze it on the image of Sam toting a shotgun inside the bank with his brother beside him. Sam had always been quiet about his family, painfully quiet. Sometimes he'd see Sam pick up a salt shaker in a restaurant and just stare it with this sad look on his face. Every time he'd ask Sam would laugh and set it down and say nothing more. He wondered then if perhaps his brother weren't the real criminal in the family; maybe Sam had somehow been sucked into a murderous life.

Joel grabbed his phone off the table and opened it, quickly finding the number he still had for Sam. He dialed it quickly. He couldn't stand not knowing. If Sam needed help…the phone rang and rang and went to voicemail. He faltered for a second on whether to leave a message and then just closed it. It wasn't the kind of thing he wanted to ask in a stupid message. He just couldn't understand. He glared at Sam's image on the screen. Sam had always been the most…vanilla of all their friends. The guy wouldn't hurt a fly. Hell, Joel had seen him laughing at Jess more than once as he carefully carried a spider out of their apartment. He snorted and shook his head. The Sam he knew wouldn't be robbing banks and killing people.

"No way." The Sam he knew stood up for right, almost to a fault. He frowned then and remembered another time. They had been in a bar, they and some other friends, drinking. Three scruffy bikers had tried to start trouble with them. One of them had shoved Joel back into the bar and Sam…Sam had stopped them. His quiet, harmless friend had stepped forward and with a few well-placed kicks and some moves that looked almost military, Sam had taken all three down in less than a minute. Sam had ushered them all out of the bar to avoid more trouble and shrugged as they pounced on him, saying he'd just gotten lucky, that the men had only been surprised. Joel hadn't believed him then and even less so now.

There was another time when Joel had snuck into Sam's dorm room. It was finals week and Sam had been studying all the hours of the day and night. Joel had wanted to shock him out of it, make him have a little fun and had snuck in. He'd jumped on the bed, scaring Sam awake and then found himself on the floor with Sam on top of him, a scary long knife at his throat and a look on his face that had chilled him to the bone. Sam had immediately fallen back, helped Joel up and fallen over himself apologizing as he tucked the blade back under his pillow. Sam had told him that he'd once been jumped in a motel and even then, Joel had felt there was more to the story but he hadn't pressed the issue. He'd been too busy feeling the fool for scaring the guy that badly. Besides, sharing was not something Sam ever did with anyone except Jess.

Joel tried Sam's phone again and again it went to voice mail as he flipped it closed. He ran a hand through his hair and over his face, finally admitting to himself that there was a lot he didn't know about Sam; a lot that no one had ever known about him. The more he thought about it, the more realized the sheer magnitude of things he didn't know about his friend. Joel rewound and watched the newscast again only now he wondered. Maybe Sam was so secretive about his life before college because he had been a part of that life. Maybe he had come to Stanford to get away from it, from the crime and try to have a normal life. He'd certainly worked hard to appear normal. Perhaps he had been a bank robber at his brother's side but he'd sure had no money to start with; that much Joel remembered. When Sam had first started college he'd spent many weeks subsisting on Ramen Noodles and little else so if he had been robbing banks, he sure hadn't brought any of the money with him.

Sam must have wanted 'normal'. Joel sighed sadly; normal until the fire, until Jess had died and then his brother had come and taken him away. That much he knew from some of the onlookers the night of the fire. So he'd escaped to college and Jess' death had driven him back into it. He felt a sudden anger flare for the brother he knew nothing about and he glared angrily at Dean's image on the screen beside Sam.

"Just couldn't leave him out of it could you?" Joel asked softly. He wanted to find them and give a good solid punch to the older brother who'd pulled Sam back into it. It scared him to think that someday soon he might see a news report declaring Sam dead, killed in some ridiculous shoot out in a bank. He stood and paced back and forth in front of the television, looking at it occasionally, glaring away at others.

Joel held up his phone and tried Sam's number again with anger bubbling in his throat. This time he would leave a message and try to set the guy right, make him call back. Somehow he would find Sam and talk sense to him. He got out of that life once he could do it again. Jess would like that, he thought. He listened to the ringing, ready to let loose his tirade when, to his surprise a voice answered. Sam.

"Hello?" Sam voice was gruff, sounded tired. Joel listened and all the anger he'd been stewing bled away leaving him empty. "Hello? Who's there?"

Joel lowered his phone and stared it, suddenly unsure what he could say to Sam…or even if he should.

"Look if someone's there…I don't know, Dean. No one's talking."

Joel gasped softly and flipped the phone closed quickly. His brother was with him and Joel couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't get him on the wrong side of the older brother, the criminal, the bank robber and murderer. He tossed the phone onto the couch and stared it. Sam hadn't sounded like he needed help. He hadn't sounded lost or any of the other things Joel had thought he would. Sam had sounded…at home and completely different. The inflection in his tone had been one Joel had never heard and it made him shiver and think again of the incident in the bar and the night in his dorm room. He looked over to the image of Sam on the television.

Joel realized suddenly that you never really know someone and Sam had taken extra care to make sure no one, not even his friends, really knew him at all. Joel picked up his beer and took a long drink. He decided he didn't want to know anymore. He no longer wanted to know what the story was or if Sam had turned to a life of crime by his own choice or not. Joel turned off the television and sighed a little in relief as Sam's image vanished. He decided he'd rather remember Sam the way he was. Sometimes not knowing was better he told himself and headed back to go to bed. He passed a picture hanging on the wall; a picture of him and Sam with their arms thrown around a laughing Jess and didn't look at it as he went. "Don't get dead, Sam." Joel said softly and turned off the light as he left, leaving the picture alone to darkness.

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_The End._


	5. For Brielle-W

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Info: For Brielle-W - a baby Sam learning how to talk wants to tell John something (anything is fine). John doesn't understand his pronunciation, so he has to call Dean to translate for him. Have Dean translating it as something easily understandable and obvious. If you can, write it as if it has happenned many times before.
> 
> A/N: Sam is a year and a half. Dean is 6 and John is, well, out of his depth.
> 
> Also I should mention, this particular bit of baby-ese I used to hear regularly from my baby sister. XD Didn't even have to make it up...but no one tell her. She's 18 now. She'd be mortified! HA!

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John sat comfortably at the little kitchen table and poured over the research he'd dug up at the local library. He was sure there was a hunt in the little town but hadn't quite nailed down what it was yet. He looked over at the small clatter in time to see his baby boy topple a tower of blocks across the floor. He smiled and looked back to the papers. It wasn't much of a house he'd found for them but it wasn't the worst either. It even had a little yard for the boys to play in…with his careful supervision. He still wasn't comfortable with them out of his sight. Even sending Dean to first grade every day was enough to make his teeth itch but he knew Mary would have scolded him if he'd wrapped them up and hidden them away from the world. John scrubbed a hand over his face at the thought of her, of his beautiful wife and unbidden came the image of how he had last seen her. He scrunched his eyes closed and forced it away, picturing instead her beautiful blonde hair and smile as he remembered them.

"Da." Sam's voice called and John looked over and watched as his year and a half old son tottered his way across the floor on unsteady legs. Sam was a fast learner but his chubby baby legs weren't quite up to speed yet. He chuckled when Sam swayed and then righted himself with a determined expression on his little face, his bottom lip sucked into his mouth in concentration. Steady again, Sam grinned and finished his wobbly path to his father. "Da." Sam said again and put his arms up in expectation.

"Hey, Sammy." John bent and scooped him up, settling him in his lap. He dropped his cheek to the boy's head for a moment with a smile.

"Da! Ma dapee cha!" Sam said and looked up at him with liquid blue-green eyes.

"Huh?" John tried to sort the garble out in his head but, as usual, Sam's baby talk eluded him. "What do you need, son?"

Sam frowned and stared up at him, eyes focused on his father's as if willing him to understand. "Ma dapee cha."

"Oh boy." John scrubbed a hand through his hair, as shaggy as Sam's was quickly becoming and grimaced. "Sammy, I wish I knew what you were saying." Every time his youngest tried to speak to him he felt inadequate as a father because the sad truth was ne needed his older son to translate for the younger. Dean understood everything Sam said as though it were a special language only the two of them could speak.

Sam squirmed in his lap and his face began to get that look John dreaded. He repeated his mysterious message and John sighed. "I'm sorry, tiger." John rubbed his knuckles on Sam's cheek over the quickly forming scowl that heralded an upset toddler, something John was even worse at dealing with. "Dean!" John yelled. He waited for his son and then slapped a hand to his head. "Idiot." He told himself. It was early afternoon. Dean wouldn't be home from school yet. "Oh hell."

"Da!" Sam said more forcefully and repeated his garbled words. His eyes were getting bigger, wetter as he waited for his father to understand him, to realize what it was he wanted.

"Ok. Gotta put that smile back on your face, kiddo." John said, grinning for him. Sam didn't return it. He just looked up at his dad waiting. "I know!" John picked him up and carried him back to his toys. He sat with Sam in his lap and started piling the blocks back up. "Wanna play, Sammy?"

"Nuh." Sam said and that one John got. "Ma dapee cha!"

"Right, uh…" John looked around more frantically for something to distract him with. Few things could tear down his bad ass demeanor faster than his baby boy crying. It stole his calm and reduced him to one of those pathetic fathers he used to see holding a crying child and looking completely lost and useless. Sam sniffed in his lap and ratcheted up his tension. It wasn't far off now. "Ok, Sammy. Come on."

John rose, balancing Sam on his hip and went quickly to the kitchen. He rifled through his sparse cabinets and finally found what he was looking for. "Oh thank god." He breathed and gave the box a shake in front of Sam. "Here we go, kiddo." He sat back down at the table with Sam and the box as the first tear crept slowly down Sam's baby fat cheek. John dumped out a pile of cereal and began separating out the marshmallows. "Moons, diamonds, horseshoes." He held each shape up for Sam as he said the name and smiled, trying to get an answering smile and instead finding an ever growing look of misery on his face. He made a mound of the little marshmallows in front of his boy but Sam ignored them. Usually, Sam would already have two fists full of the little treats, chortling happily to himself as he ate them one at a time, grinning. Not today. Today Sam repeated his garbled message to his father and began crying in earnest.

"Aw hell, Sammy." John stood and started pacing, bouncing Sam on his hip to try and soothe him. "I'm sorry baby. I don't know what you want." He put both arms around the now sobbing child. Sam still said his words but they were even more garbled in between hiccuping sobs as he grabbed fistfuls of John's shirt and buried his face in it. John felt tears gather in his own eyes as he held him close and spoke softly to him. He was completely at a loss. He needed Dean and that only added to his own misery. A father should be able to help his boy. He shouldn't need another child to do it for him. "Dammit." He quickened his pacing, striding back and forth across the living room with a hiccuping, sobbing toddler in his arms, tears wetting the chest of his shirt.

As if in answer to his prayers, the door of the little house opened and Dean walked in. His baggy jacket hung to his knees. His hair was blown into a dirty blonde mess and Dean, all of six years old looked up at his father with a face far beyond his years.

"What's goin' on?" Dean instantly registered his baby brother sobbing hysterically and it put him instantly on alert. He tossed his book bag across the floor and stared. "Dad?" Dean strode on short legs to his father and reached up. "Give him."

"Dean…" John started but the look on his eldest's face brooked no argument.

"Give him." Dean waited until his father bent down and handed Sam to him. Dean wrapped Sam in both his arms and dropped to his butt on the floor with his baby brother in his lap. "Why's he crying? What's wrong? What happened?"

John knelt in front of his boys and studied Dean; his hair so like his mother's, sharp green eyes that missed little even at his age and the freckles that even a tan couldn't hide scattered across his face and he sighed. "Sam was trying to tell me something and I couldn't figure it out." John brushed a hand through Sam's mop of dark hair.

Dean cuddled Sam against him and squeezed the back of the little neck. "Hey, Sammy. What'd you wanna tell Dad?" His little brother was the most important thing in his life. Sam was his rock. When he was feeling lost or alone or sad and missing his Mom he'd hold Sam and feel better, always. At night after their Dad went to sleep Dean would climb into his crib and wrap his Sammy up in his arms to keep him safe. He knew Dad didn't think he remembered a certain night…but he did. He wasn't going to let the fire get Sam ever.

Sam snuggled his head under Dean's chin and mumbled up at him. "Ma dapee cha."

Dean smirked. Then he laughed and looked up to his Dad.

"What already?" John asked, needing to know what had been so important.

Dean looked up at him with an amused expression. He rolled his eyes at his father. "He says his diaper needs changed." He watched his father groan and close his eyes. Dean chuckled again and looked down when Sam muttered something else. Dean snorted and ruffled Sam's hair into a spiky mop. "He says he still wants the marshmallows."

John slapped a hand over his face and ran it back through his hair in exasperation as he stood. He watched Dean stagger to his feet with Sam still held in his arms and wondered how bad a father it would make him if he kept Dean out of school just until Sam was old enough to speak clearly. He laughed at himself and the ridiculous idea.

"Come on, Sammy. You're ripe." Dean carried him off toward their bedroom with Sam burbling happily away to him. Dean nodded his head with complete understanding of every word.

John watched them go wordlessly and shook his head. He ran a hand through is hair again and caught sight of himself in a mirror. His hair looked as spiky and disheveled as Sam's. He groaned and looked up to the ceiling. "I suck." He said with feeling and a self-deprecating chuckle. The chuckle turned into a laugh as Sam wobbled speedily back out into the living room, bare-naked and Dean chased behind him with a diaper.

"Come here you little runt!" Dean growled and Sam squealed in mock fear.

"Ok. Maybe I don't suck that much." John wiped tears of laughter from his eyes as Sam bowled into his legs and ducked behind them and Dean thumped into his knees with a laugh.

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_The End._


	6. For leahelisabeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Info: For Leahelisabeth - I'm going for the crossover! With Primeval! I don't care what season of SPN it is in, but for Primeval, I would prefer beginning of season 3, before Cutter dies, but after Becker arrives. Sam and Dean have to go to England for whatever reason and they end up investigating an anomaly and running into the team from the ARC. Sam and Conner end up trapped(and injured) on the other side of the anomaly and Dean, Abby, Becker, and Cutter have to work together to get them back.
> 
> A/N: As all the crazy kids say now..OMG all the FEELS with this one. LOL I'm as big a Primeval geek as I am for Supernatural. I've been itching to get to this one since Leah gave it to me! Woop! Please please let me do it justice! :D
> 
> As with Supernatural, I assume a certain level of familiarity with Primeval and its cast. enjoy!

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"Dude are you sure about this?" Sam asked as he and Dean crept up to the back of the sprawling mansion.

"Bobby was." Dean shrugged. "I got on a plane for this. He better be damn sure." He growled and shuddered. Their flight across to England had been anything but quiet. The turbulence had had him bent over an airsick bag most of the way with the added humiliation of his little brother rubbing circles on his back to try and comfort him from the panic. He wondered how long a cruise ship would take to get them back.

"I'd feel better about this if there were some lights on." Sam looked up into the shadow of the old house, taking in its darkened windows and ivy covered walls. Bobby had sent them to England after an artifact he said would be 'very bad' if someone stupid accidentally activated the thing. It was a sort of battery for ghosts; drawing them in and giving them extra juice. It could turn your garden variety ghost into a full-fledged poltergeist. Bobby had tried to buy from the 'rich idjit' who bought it at auction. When that failed and the new owner had stopped talking to him he'd sent the boys

"So this thing is some kinda doll, right?" Dean asked as he bent and worked at opening the lock on the back door they'd chosen. The last rays of the sun were fading behind the house leaving them in chilly darkness ahead of the night.

Sam nodded. "It's big. Five feet maybe." Sam smirked. "We'll know it when we see it. According to Bobby it's ugly." He glanced over when he heard the lock snick open and smiled at Dean, following him as he opened the door.

"Hey." Dean pointed straight above them on the third floor. "There is a light on." A pale golden light flickered in one of the windows and he frowned. "Wonder why the guy's hiding up there."

"Maybe he turned it on." Sam said ominously as they stepped inside the quiet house. "That's why Bobby was so worried. Doesn't take more than accidentally bleeding on the thing."

"Stupid." Dean shook his head as they made their way down the hall ahead of them. "Witches are stupid man."

Sam snorted, knowing his brothers' low opinion of witches in general. They passed a kitchen, a parlor, another parlor and came out in a large entry hall with a wide curved staircase on one side. "Suppose we could just go ask him." Sam pulled out his EMF meter and his brows rose when the needle dove to the right and buried itself. "Ah hell."

"Awesome." Dean groaned and threw his arms out. "We're too late. The dumb son of a bitch bled on it." He hefted his shotgun loaded with rock salt rounds and looked over to Sam who raised his to show he was ready. "Let's go find us a statue to bust up."

They headed for the stairs with a new respect for the darkness and silence around them. A place this big shouldn't be this dark, Sam thought as they jogged up the curved stair to the second floor. At the top, a balcony went in either direction leading to either wing of the mansion. Dean nodded at Sam to go left and headed into the west wing himself.

Sam crossed the balcony and clicked his flashlight on to shine down the long hall ahead of him. He frowned as the light passed over a darkened area of the light brown carpeting and drew closer. He bent and recognized the stain; blood. It led in a wide drag mark beneath a door a few feet away. Sam stood and raised his shotgun before he took the knob, turned it and pushed the door open. He sighed sadly. An older man dangled in the center of the room, hanged from a ceiling fan by what looked like a lamp wire.

Dean wrinkled his nose at an odd smell as he checked the second room he passed. It was empty or people and cluttered with antique furniture. He went back out into the hall and a partly open door caught his eye. The dark mahogany wood had been split in several places. He stepped quietly up to it and eased it open with his flashlight. The room, an office of some sort was splattered with blood across the floor, walls and ceiling. The floor was cluttered with most of the things that had once rested on the desk and shelves. There were footprints smeared into the blood and he looked back at the door with a frown. The splits in the wood looked more like claw marks.

"Huh." Dean said softly and went back out into the hall.

"Dean." Sam's soft voice called and he watched his brother come quickly to him. "One dead in a room in the other hall." Sam told him. "Ghost strung him up."

"Well somebody died in here." Dean pushed the door beside him open further so Sam could look in. "No body and Sammy I swear…" Dean pulled the door closed again and shined his light on it. "Those look like claw marks to me."

Sam bent to the door, his nose practically touching it and nodded. "I think you're right." He straightened. "Well that's a new one for a ghost."

"Yeah. Come on. Let's go check out that light." Dean spoke softly and headed back to the stair he'd passed on his way down the hall.

The third floor was as quiet as the first and they turned together toward where they had seen the light from outside. The hall had several doors opening off of it and Dean nodded to the third, where he guessed the light had been and now saw a soft glow coming from under the door.

Sam took a step toward the door and then froze as a small table at the other end of the hall rattled on its legs. "Uh oh." A second later the table was launched down the length of the hall toward them. It hurtled as if on rockets and they split, throwing themselves flat against the hall on either side as it passed them to crash into the stairs.

"So much for element of surprise." Dean groaned. "You ok?"

"Yep." Sam held out the EMF again and still the needle buried itself as it whined insistently, warning them they were not alone. He stepped toward the door again and suddenly the needle on the meter began waving wildly back and forth. "What the hell?"

Dean came and looked over his shoulder. "You break my meter?" He plucked it out of Sam's hand and checked it himself. He gave it a shake and the wildly fluctuating needle didn't stop. "Ok, what's going on?"

"Oi! Don't move!"

The shout came from the other end of the hall and Sam and Dean ducked their heads as the glare from several flashlights suddenly blinded them.

"Drop your weapons." A low, commanded voice ordered and Dean shined his own light up to the face of a young man in bullet proof vest heavy with weapons and an odd scar crossing his left eyebrow.

"How about you put yours down?" Dean said instead, instantly on the defensive. "You people need to get the hell out of here."

"It's not safe." Sam stepped up beside him and kept his shotgun low. He'd seen the similar weapon the man was carrying and had aimed determinedly at them. He meant business.

"Funny. I was going to tell you the same thing. Weapons down. Now!" He ordered.

"Not gonna happen." Dean shook his head.

"Dean." Sam put a hand on the barrel of his brother's gun and eased it down. "Look. You need to get out of the house before you get hurt."

"Bloody Americans."

"Becker? What have you caught?" A second man with a much stronger accent stepped forward. The combined light of the flashlights illuminated a kind face under a mop of blonde hair. He smiled. "I'm Professor Cutter. I'm afraid you're going to have to leave. There's a…dangerous gas leak in the house."

"The Anomaly's in there." A third man stepped forward, much younger in a black vest and white shirt, gloves covering the bottom half of his arms and he held a compass out toward the door the brothers stood beside. He glanced up at Sam and Dean from under the brim of his hat, dark hair peeking out and smiled. "Boy are you blokes in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Right. Thank you, Connor." Professor Cutter said with a pained smile.

"Guns. Now." Becker ordered again and took a step closer. He didn't like having two strange Americans with loaded weapons around his team.

Sam knelt and placed his shotgun on the floor.

"Not a good idea, Sammy." Dean glared but he bent and set his down as well. "Look, this is gonna sound crazy but there's something bad in this house and the longer we stand here the better the chance it's gonna come after us."

"Right, we're aware." Becker eased the tension in his arms slightly now the men were unarmed. "We'll handle it. It's our job."

Dean snorted and nodded. "With that thing? What kind of Hunter are you?" He said disdainfully. "Bullets won't do a damn thing to them." He rolled his eyes. "Oh man, don't tell me you're friggin ghosthunters." He turned to Sam. "It's those damn Ghostfacers all over again."

"Ghosts?" The younger man, Connor stepped forward with a keen look on his face. "As in…ghosts?"

"Gee, Connor. Way to impress them with your brilliant mind." A young, very attractive woman with short, blonde hair came into sight, a small dart gun of some sort held along her leg.

"Abby. He said ghosts!" Connor said excitedly.

"Look." Cutter waved a hand, anxious to get on with it. "Have ye seen anything…odd?"

"You mean aside from the poor dead guy hanging downstairs?" Sam said bluntly. "Claw marks in another door. Nope. Not a thing."

Dean snorted, amused. Sam may be the great conciliator but he didn't like being unarmed any more than he did and it was showing. "Look. This is our job." Dean was quickly losing patience and knew the ghosts would be after them again. "You need to leave and let us take care of this."

"Your job?" Connor said with an amused look on his face. "What, has America got its own ARC?" He looked up to Cutter. "Didn't think they had anomalies over there."

"They don't. Far as I know." Cutter said and looked back to the two strange men.

"Anomalies?" Sam asked, his own curiosity now piqued. "Look. Let's start over. I'm Sam. This is my brother Dean."

"We can't stand around in the hall all day having a chat." Becker said finally.

Cutter nodded. "You're right it is dangerous. Let's get you out and then…" He broke off as the temperature in the hall suddenly dropped.

"Oh crap." Dean groaned. As one he and Sam dove for their guns.

"Stay back." Sam warned the little group.

Becker opened his mouth to shout them down for picking up their weapons when something even he had trouble accepting happened; a softly glowing figure flew out of the wall between them with a scream. He opened his mouth in shock.

"Tha's a ghost!" Connor said, somehow missing the part where they were now in danger and he came excitedly forward to look at it.

"Get back!" Sam yelled. His finger twitched on the trigger but he'd have no choice but to shoot Connor as well as the ghost.

"What…is that?" Abby gasped and raised her tranq gun though she somehow knew it wouldn't help them.

"Connor get back!" Sam saw the ghost reaching out for him and dove along the floor. He slid on the smooth wood floor and fired up into the spirit as he passed under it. The rock salt did what it was supposed to and the ghost dissipated in a burst of white mist.

"Sam, are you freakin nuts?" Dean shouted at him.

The door beside Sam, the one with the glow coming from beneath hit suddenly burst out into the hall in pieces. Expecting another ghost Sam's eyes blew wide in shock. He stared up at a…his brain refused to use the word for a moment and he shook his head as if trying to shake the image away. It was a dinosaur. "Holy crap." He breathed. It stood on two legs with two smaller legs high on its torso, maybe five feet tall as it glared out into the hall with hawkish eyes in a head that vaguely reminded him of a Velociraptor. It opened wide jaws nearly the length of its head and hissed loudly as it looked down on Sam.

"Sam!" Dean's shout echoed in the hall.

Sam had no time as it reached clawed hands for him. He tried to swing the gun around and then legs stood in his way. Connor had jumped in front of him instinctively. The dinosaur caught the front of Connor's vest instead in long curved claws, lurching back into the room with him while he shouted in pain. Sam scrambled to his feet and latched his hand into the back of Connor's belt, trying to hold him back. He heard shouting behind him and then gasped a second time. The Dinosaur was dragging Connor back into a golden shining, ball of fractured light that revolved around and around inside the room. He had never seen anything like it.

"Don't let go!" Connor shouted in a pained voice.

Sam did his best, holding on to Connor's belt with one hand. He tried to bring the shotgun up over the man's shoulder and then shouted in surprise as they were both pulled forcefully into the swirling light.

"Sam!" Dean shouted again and ran for the door where his brother had vanished. He didn't make it. Cutter suddenly dove into him, throwing him back. A second later a globe of the Earth shot out of the doorway where Dean's head had been.

"CONNOR!" Abby's shout was heart-stricken. She threw herself at the door and struggled as Becker caught her around the waist, hauling her back.

"Abby…wait!" Becker yelled, fighting to hold her as she struggled.

Dean was torn between going instantly after his brother and protecting the idiots who had walked in on their hunt. He crawled hastily out from underneath the Professor and eased forward to look into the room. He saw the Anomaly and spent a moment just staring in awe and confusion.

"Where is my brother?" He turned menacingly to Professor Cutter.

"That's…going to take a bit of explaining." Cutter said, as worried about Connor as Dean was about Sam.

"No time." Becker said suddenly and pointed down the hall behind them. A trio of spirits sprang into being and began advancing.

Dean growled loudly in frustration. "Son of a bitch! Come on." He made the decision finally. He took Cutter's arm and shoved him behind him toward his friends. "However you got up here, go back now. Get to the kitchen."

"The kitchen?" Cutter asked as he took Abby's other arm; she had yet to take her eyes from the door, the Anomaly and her last sight of Connor.

"We can't just leave him!" She shouted.

"Abby." Cutter took her face. "Abby, look at me." He waited and flinched as Dean's shotgun blasted in the hall. "I promise you. We'll get him back. Trust me." He smiled when he saw the manic look fade slightly from her eyes.

"Move!" Dean yelled angrily. Becker stepped up beside him raising his gun. Dean shook his head and pushed him back. "That thing's worthless here. MOVE!" The loud command finally got them going the way he wanted them. He followed walking backward as the ghosts followed. The doors along the hall rattled in their frames. He turned the corner and gave Becker's back a shove ahead of him. "Down to the kitchen now."

They ran, clattering down the stairs as wind roared down at them from above with howls of anger. Dean directed them as they reached the first floor, his eyes alert for any ghost that came at them. His EMF was working properly again for what it was worth; the needle once more buried in the red. He didn't need it to tell him they were in trouble. They entered the kitchen in a rush.

"Salt!" Dean said and started flinging cabinets open. "Find salt, any salt."

"Why salt?" Cutter asked and bent to open counter doors, peering inside with his flashlight.

"Ghost stopper." Dean said simply. He didn't have time for long drawn out explanations.

Cutter raised his brows and kept looking. Abby shook herself and joined him, going to a pantry on the other side while Becker stood in the doorway and watched for trouble. Cutter studied the young man with the shotgun. He could tell Dean was a bundle of contained panic and danger, his thoughts surely with his brother through the anomaly and yet here he stood with a room full of strangers working to protect them from… He shook his head in disbelief.

"Ghosts are real." Cutter said softy.

"Here." Abby turned around holding a large canister of salt.

"Good." Dean grabbed it and stuck his head out an adjoining door. "Can't do it in here. Too many weapons." He flung a hand at the various knives, pots and pans hanging on the walls. He strode through the door and into a dining room. "This'll do." He moved so there was no clear shot from the kitchen door and started pouring a wide circle of salt.

They followed him in and watched incredulously as he poured the thick, white line onto the floor. "You came here for…the ghosts?" Cutter asked as Dean closed the circle.

"That's the job." Dean said simply. "Get in the circle, all of you." He waved an arm and waited. "Come on!" He said angrily when they stared at him.

"Alright." Cutter stepped over the line, Abby and Connor following him.

"Stay in the circle and they can't get you." Dean pointed to the line. "If they manage to break it, fix it. Fast." He handed the salt can to the Professor. "You won't have more than a second or two. Wait here." Dean ran out of the dining room and across the hall. When he and Sam had come through before he'd seen a fireplace in one of the parlors. He nodded as he found it and the stand of pokers beside it. He pulled three of them out and ran back to the dining room. "Here." He handed a poker to each of them.

"Seriously?" Becker held his up, incredulous. "What exactly are we supposed to do with these?"

Dean scowled. "It's iron, army boy." He smiled as Becker returned his dark look. "It won't kill them, neither will the salt but they will buy you time."

"Time for what?" Abby stalked to him. "We're standing here mucking about with salt and pokers and we should be going after Connor!" She glared up at him, five and a half feet of feminine fury and he actually backed up a step. "I'm going!"

"Abby…" Cutter called.

"Stop!" Dean warned as Abby stepped over the line and toward the door.

She ignored them and had no time to react as a ghost materialized in front of her. She gasped in shock as she felt her skin turn to ice, the air cooling, her breath puffed out in front of her eyes. She swung the iron poker up without thinking. It passed through the ghost and broke it apart and she grinned. She turned back to them and her eyes went wide as she felt something wrap around her throat.

"Abby!" Becker shouted. He watched in horror as the cord of a nearby phone tore itself from the wall and whipped around her neck.

"Stay!" Dean ordered and ran after as Abby was yanked forcefully from her feet and out of the room.

Dean followed and fired as another angry spirit flew at him. He ducked through the evaporating ghost and followed Abby's shoes as they entered the parlor he'd gotten the pokers from.

Abby dropped the poker, heard it clatter to the floor as she scrabbled at the cord around her neck and tried in vain to breathe. She couldn't even cry out as it tightened. She realized it was pulling her up and she glanced above to find it winding around the support of a chandelier. It was going to hang her! She kicked in terror, her lungs starving and saw Dean dash into the room. Her eyes started to close, blackness creeping across her vision as he drew a knife.

"Crap!" Dean pulled his knife from his back and dragged a chair over beneath her. He hopped up and wrapped one arm around her. He reached up with the other and sliced neatly through the cord. Her weight fell into him and he staggered on the chair before gaining his balance. "Maybe now….you'll listen to me." He muttered and stepped down. She didn't weigh much at all and he easily put her over his shoulder. He picked up his shotgun and turned back to the door.

"Aw you gotta be kidding me!" Dean growled and backed a step as another dinosaur eased into the room. Its eyes were steady on him, clawed hands opening and closing as it looked at him with hunger. He tightened his grip on Abby and wondered if rock salt would be enough to scare it off. The sudden burst of a gun going off startled him. The dinosaur screamed and toppled forward into the room.

"Still want to call me army boy?" Becker stepped up behind the creature with a satisfied smile that quickly faded. "Abby?"

"Not here." Dean skirted the monster and followed Becker back to the dining room.

"Oh god, Abby." Cutter reached up and pulled her from Dean's shoulder, cradling her head as he lowered her to the floor inside the circle. He laid a hand at her neck and sighed. "She's breathing." A ring of bruises was beginning to form on her throat.

"She'll be alright." Dean assured him. He reached out and tugged on the front of Becker's vest until he was inside the circle as well. "Ok, look. There's a statue in this house somewhere. We came here to destroy it before it set off these ghosts."

Becker snorted. "I think you're a little late."

Dean snarled at him. "And you wanna explain what the hell walking, living dinosaurs are doing wandering a friggin mansion? Or what that thing upstairs is?" Dean looked to the Professor. "I'll take the light first cause that's where I'm going."

Cutter watched him and nodded, deciding this was someone who could handle the truth. "It's an anomaly. A…gateway to the distant past. If you want the science…."

"No thanks. Tell Sam." Dean tightened his grip on his gun. "When I bring him back. He'll love it."

"I'm going with him." Becker told Cutter with a face that said he wasn't going to argue about it. "I will bring back Connor. You watch out for her." He took a pistol from the holster at his thigh and handed to him.

Cutter took it with a sigh, resigned and nodded. "I will." He looked up to Dean. "Anything else I should know?"

Dean gave him a small smile. "They might throw things at you. Might even break the line. If you have to find someplace small, like a closet. Get in and pour a line of salt at the door. It'll keep them out."

"So, you're ghost hunters, you and your brother?" Cutter rearranged Abby so her head rested in his lap.

"Among other things." Dean said cryptically. "Come on."

"What's the statue look like?" Cutter called before they left.

"Butt ugly according to my brother." Dean smirked. "Said we wouldn't be able to miss it." He scowled and aimed a finger at him. "Don't go looking for it. They'll protect it and you don't know what you're doing."

Cutter chuckled at being spoken to like a bystander but he supposed in Dean's mind, he was. He dropped a hand to Abby's shoulder when they were alone. "Time to wake up, Abby." He said softly and looked warily around the room. "Connor'd never forgive me if I let ye get eaten or worse."

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"Oi. Mate. Wake up!"

The voice lured Sam awake. He groaned and opened his eyes then slammed them shut as light glared down at him.

"Oh thank god. You're alive." Connor gasped in relief. He inched closer to the edge and watched, the sun beating down on his back. He cradled an arm under his chest and the wide slash marks still bleeding there. The dinosaur, a Coelophysis, had pulled them back through the anomaly and into the Triassic era. There was little but sand and rock to be seen. Sam had tried to free Connor and Connor could only watch as he'd been tossed over a low ledge by a sweep of the dinosaurs' tail. It had then taken Connor and dropped him onto a nest before running off again. The eggs, more than a dozen of them had yet to hatch for which he was grateful. He'd lain in a daze for a few minutes trying to think around the pain in his chest. Finally he made himself move, crawling out of the nest and over the blistering sand to the ledge to find Sam.

"Wha…" Sam mumbled and raised a hand to shield his eyes. "Where are we?"

"Late Triassic, mate." Connor told him. He kept his voice low in case there were more Coelophysis' nearby.

"Huh?" Sam asked, thoroughly confused. He decided he must have hit his hard very hard to think he was lying in a desert. He was in a mansion in England for crying out loud. "Dean."

"Back on the other side." Connor told him. "Look, can you climb back up?" He checked over his shoulder and could still see the anomaly in the distance. "Never know how long they'll last. We need to get back besides…" He ran his hand through his hair, his hat having long been lost. "Abby's gonna kill me."

Sam finally made an effort to move and fell back with a short cry, holding his right shoulder. It was out, he was sure, dislocated. As that pain subsided he felt another burning across his hip and leg and had a flash of memory of a dinosaur and its tail coming for him. "Dinosaur?" He asked, expecting to be told he was mad.

"Coelophysis." Connor nodded.

"Seelo…fisis?" Sam rolled the name around and grimaced. "Holy crap it was real."

"Oi! Ghosts! Who knew?" Connor smiled. "Very cool."

"Not so cool." Sam grumbled. He tried again to sit up and this time he gritted his teeth through the pain until he was leaning against the wall, panting for air. He glanced back up and saw Connor's head down. "Hey, you alright?"

"Been better." Connor looked back up, his face pale. "We have got to move, mate. Really."

"Alright." Sam nodded and used the uneven stone to pull him to his feet. He stood at the edge of a sharp drop-off into a crevasse. "It's Sam by the way." He smiled up at Connor. "Sam Winchester."

"What, like the gun?" Connor's eyes widened and he smiled. "That's brilliant, mate! Er…Sam."

Sam chuckled and decided he liked him. The wall thankfully wasn't very tall but it was tall enough and he had only the one arm, his right hanging uselessly at his side. He let his forehead rest against the stone and then yanked it away as the stone burned his skin. God it was hot. He was swimming in sweat, every inch of him dripping with it.

"You uh…have to actually climb you know." Connor said helpfully and grinned, unrepentant as Sam rolled his eyes up at him.

"No kidding?" Sam groaned and looked for a handhold.

"What's wrong?" Connor asked, concerned as Sam just stood there.

"Shoulder." Sam found he was leaning heavily off his left leg. "And left hip. That dinosaur did a number on me." He sighed, disgusted. "Connor, I can't. You go." Sam turned and slid slowly back down the wall until he was sitting uncomfortably. "Get help."

"No way." Connor shook his head. He looked back out over the desert landscape. "Never leave a man behind, Becker would say." He smiled down at Sam's upturned face. "I'll find something to pull you up. Gotta be something."

"Connor." Sam shook his head. "You go back and find my brother. Dean'll know what to do."

Connor watched him drop his head and felt torn. He made to get to his knees and hissed out an agonized breath as pain tore across his chest. "Maybe…maybe I'll just wait here…with you." He said in a voice gone hoarse.

"Connor?" Sam looked up, worry creasing his face. "How bad?" He remembered the Coelophysis gripping hold of Connor's chest with its claws.

"It's fine." Connor lied. Blood still pooled in the hand cupped under his chest. He'd taken only a cursory look at the wounds, just seeing them had made him hurt worse but he knew they were bad. The intense heat from the sun combined with the blood loss was making his head swim.

"Connor, look at me." Sam called. He'd yet to raise his head and Sam frowned as his worry climbed when he didn't. "Connor." Sam turned and hauled himself back to his feet. He was left gasping with the pain for a minute.

"M'okay." Connor said finally.

"No. You're not." Sam took a steadying breath and decided they couldn't wait for a rescue; he'd just have to be careful.

Connor laid with his face on his arm, sun beating down on him and tried to breathe through the spinning in his head that was making his stomach churn. He knew he had to move. He had to get back to Abby. She'd probably be mad at him getting dragged off by a dinosaur like that. He smiled….maybe she'd bandage up his chest personally. He snorted at himself and then startled as something slapped into his head. "Huh?" He looked up blearily to see a hand grasping at the edge. "Sam!"

"Little help." Sam managed through clenched teeth. He'd fallen twice and was only just holding on now.

Connor backed up a little and with much groaning and a few stops to just breathe managed to get to his knees. He took hold of Sam's arm above the wrist and pulled, or tried too. The tension made his chest sing with pain and he felt fresh blood trickle down over his stomach, itching. "Come…on!" He ground out and refused to lose his grip as Sam's head cleared the edge.

"Little further." Sam pushed with his legs, trying to give Connor all the help he could. He could Connor was in a bad way. His vest was torn open, the white shirt beneath a ragged mess of red and caked sand as he strained to pull the much larger man up. Sam got a knee up on the ledge and gave a final, powerful shove with his left leg. He rolled up onto the sandy ground and fell onto his back, gasping. Connor fell back beside him. "Connor." Sam turned to look at him and saw the incredibly pallor highlighted by the bright sun.

"Just…five more minutes." Connor mumbled and let himself drift off.

"Crap." Sam groaned and tried to move. He lifted his head, hearing something new. He listened and then grinned. It was his brother's voice calling his name.

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Dean and Becker retraced their steps up the back stairs, going as silently as they could. Dean gave a respectful nod to Becker as they went; he moved like a Hunter and held his rifle like a man long familiar with having to use it.

"Will they be alright?" Becker asked softly; his concern for Cutter and Abby eating at him.

"Long as they stay in the circle." Dean replied. "And so long as one of your freakin dinosaurs doesn't try to eat them."

Becker looked back down the stairs and yearned to be in two places at once.

"Head in the game, pal." Dean warned him as they passed the first floor landing. He led him up and glanced in as they passed the second floor doorway. Dean stopped and lurched back. "Well holy crap."

"What? What is it?" Becker raised his rifle, ready for anything.

Dean stared and gave a lopsided smile. "Sam was right. That is one fugly statue." He pointed and Becker looked over his shoulder.

"Who would even buy that?" Becker asked in disgust.

The statue stood five feet tall in the second floor entry way. It was the figure of a man reaching up. The dead curled around his legs, misshapen and bodies torn, tendrils of what could only be intestine climbed and swirled up his body like vines to wrap around his arms.

"Yeesh." Dean shook his head. "Ok." He turned and sized up Becker and then held out his shotgun. "Watch my back." It burned a little to say that someone other than Sam but this was the job and he knew Sam would understand. He dug out the flask Bobby had given them before they left and unscrewed the top as he ran. He wasn't going to screw around. Sam and the other guy were missing and he was done screwing with pissed off ghosts. A spirit appeared with a scream and as quickly vanished as the shotgun sounded.

"Hurry up." Becker told him with a smirk.

Dean chuckled and slid to a stop beside the statue. He upended the flask, pouring the contents over the top of the statue. It was a thick, dark liquid that oozed out onto the stone. As it covered the statue's head there was a clap of thunder. A shockwave of air blasted out from the statue and knocked Dean to the floor with a grunt.

Becker shook his head and stood. He'd been thrown back into the wall. "Dean?" He stepped back into the hall and saw the man rolling to his knees. Becker eyed the statue. "Is that it?"

Dean shrugged and rolled out his shoulder. "Should be." He picked up the flask and tucked it away again. "Let's go." He took back his shotgun and ran for the stairs with Becker hot on his heels. When they reached the third floor Becker took the lead, rifle ready and went carefully to the door where'd they'd last seen Sam and Connor.

"Ghosts may be your bailiwick but this is mine." Becker told Dean seriously. "Stay behind me."

"Not just ghosts, pal." Dean set his shotgun on the floor beside the door and drew his Desert Eagle from his back. "Ask me about Werewolves sometime."

Becker stared at him. "You're serious."

"As a heart-attack." Dean nodded. "Let's go." He felt a need to get to his brother now. Dean couldn't help the open mouthed stare of awe as he looked at the anomaly. He swallowed the nervousness as Becker easily stepped into it and vanished. "Holy crap." He jumped when Becker's head reappeared, floating in the air.

"Hurry up, Yank." Becker said with a grin and pulled his head back.

"This is weird." Dean said as he stepped into the spinning shards of light. "Even for us, Sammy. This is weird."

Dean sucked in a breath as the cool air of the house was replaced with a stifling heat. He looked up into a glaring sun and saw an arid desert vista laid out before him. "Son of a bitch."

"Yeah it does that the first time." Becker chuckled and then turned to look at the sand ahead of them. "This way." There were clear prints of both dinosaur and human leading away and they broke into a jog following them.

"At least nothing can sneak up on us." Dean said, wiping off the sweat that had instantly sprung up on his brow. There was nothing around them, no trees or even cactus, just sand and rock and some bigger rocks. "Where…when the hell are we? Can't believe I just asked that."

Becker smirked. "I don't know. Connor will." His face sobered and his eyes roamed the expanse ahead of them, eager for any sign of his friend. He spotted a dark shape in the distance through the wavering heat and pointed. "There."

"Sam!" Dean shouted and increased his pace.

"Connor?" Becker called and matched Dean stride for stride.

The heat was oppressive, the air shimmered above the sand and Dean realized they were almost on top of the shape Becker had spotted. "Sammy!" Dean yelled and felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as he got a clear view. His brother was laid out on his back in the sand, sprawled with the kid beside him, covered in blood. "Sam!" Dean skidded to a stop in the sand and dropped beside them.

"Dean." Sam said in a soft voice and turned his head toward his brother's voice.

Dean heaved out a breath in relief. "You ever scare me like that again…" He left the sentence unfinished and took Sam's arm to pull him up.

"No, don't!" Sam said and shouted in pain as Dean pulled on his right arm. He panted through the pain. "Dislocated."

"Crap, Sam. Sorry." Dean set the arm back down.

"Connor?" Becker eased the young man up against his shoulder, trying not to panic at the amount of blood covering his chest. "Talk to me, Connor."

"Hey, Becker." Connor said weakly. "We were…we were just…taking a break." He smiled as his head lolled onto Becker's shoulder.

"Right." Becker pulled one of his arms across his shoulders. "Let's get you back before Abby wakes up."

"Abby? Wakes up?" Connor opened glazed eyes and grabbed a fistful of Becker's vest. "What do you mean…wakes up?"

"She's fine, Connor. Come on." Becker eased him up slowly and supported most of his weight. "Dean?"

"We're coming." Dean looked back at Sam. "Gotta do it." Sam nodded. He understood. Dean took hold of Sam's arm at the elbow and braced his other on the shoulder. He counted to three and gave a sharp pull. A strangled cry escaped Sam as his shoulder was wrenched back into its socket. "Ok, kiddo. Ok." Dean shoved Sam's sweat sodden hair off his forehead.

"I'm good." Sam blinked the stars out of his vision. "Can we go now? I've had enough…of the tour, thanks."

Dean smirked. "Yeah." He moved to Sam's other side and pulled him up as carefully as he could. In spite of his care Sam paled several times and moaned as his bruised left hip bumped into Dean. "What else?" Dean frowned.

"Dinosaur got me with its tail." Sam nodded down. "Knocked me over the side. It's ok. I can make it."

"We need to go." Becker turned and started dragging Connor back toward the anomaly. "They don't last forever."

"Awesome." Dean groaned and started after him with Sam.

"I don't think…I wanna hunt…in England anymore." Sam said and chuckled softly. "No more dinosaurs."

_-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-_

Professor Cutter stood over Abby. He'd arranged her inside of the circle after the clap of thunder from upstairs and had hastily re-poured the section that had blown open when the mysterious wind had blown through. There had been no more ghosts and he hoped that whatever had happened had stopped them. It had made him itch to simply stand there, unable to go and see if Becker and the American were alright. For all he knew they were lying dead or dying but he couldn't leave Abby unprotected.

A hissing growl whipped his head around toward the kitchen door. Cutter raised Becker's handgun. "Bloody hell." He breathed. The muzzle of the dinosaur appeared and Cutter finally placed which it was. "Coelophysis." He studied its musculature as it moved, the way its eyes roved from one side to the other, its short front arms gripping the frame of the doorway as it saw him and stepped fully into the room. "Oh you beauty." It hissed at him and hunched low along its body, preparing to leap. Cutter raised the gun and then jumped as another gun went off beside him. He looked down in surprise to see Abby lowering her arm and the tranq gun.

"Abby!" Cutter knelt after a look at the Coelophysis. It was toppling to its side as the tranquilizer did its work. He brushed her hair out of her face. "Nice of you to join us."

Abby rubbed a hand over her throat and frowned. "What happened?" She tried to think back and found a blur of salt circles and choking and… "Connor!" She rushed up from the floor and had to grab hold of Cutter when she swayed.

"Easy, Abby. They've gone to get him." Cutter kept a tight hold on her arm to keep her from tearing off. "Becker's gone for him. He'll bring him back." He felt as sure of that as he did of anything. He hadn't known Becker long but the man was like a bloodhound on the scent when it came to protecting them.

"You say." Abby glowered out at the house. "I have to go. Professor please."

"Not gonna…leave without me, are you Abby?" Connor's voice came from the hall and Abby shot away from Cutter and through the door. She skidded to a stop on the smooth wood floor at the sight of him, covered in blood and being held up only by Becker. "Connor!" She was instantly at his side.

He groaned as she bumped into him. "Easy, Abby." Connor smiled at the worry on her face.

"He'll be fine, Abby." Becker assured the worry clear on her face. "He'll have a few new scars to turn the ladies' heads."

"Why do women like scars?" Connor asked. "Never under….understood that." He slumped and Becker grunted taking all his weight.

"Don't panic." Becker told Abby with a small laugh. "He'll wake up again in a minute."

"You sure he's alright?" Cutter bent and pulled the pieces of Connor's shirt apart, grimacing at the long slashes he found there. He braced a hand on the side of Connor's head and tilted it up to see his face. "You are far too jeopardy friendly, Connor." He looked over as Dean reached the bottom of the stairs and eased his brother into a chair. The brother didn't look much better than Connor, limping heavily and he cradled his arm against his chest as he sat. "How is he?"

Dean snorted. "He's had worse." He lightly slapped Sam's sore shoulder, grinning at the curse Sam ground out. "Suck it up, Sammy."

"Becker." Cutter took Connor's weight from him and pulled him into the parlor where Abby had almost been hanged. He laid the young man out on a chaise. "Go get a team in here. That Anomaly needs watching and the house cleared." He looked over to Dean who had followed. "Should they worry about…ghosts?"

Dean shook his head. "They're gone. Found the statue." He reached a hand out to Becker as he walked past. "Thanks."

Becker took it and shook it warmly. "My gun's better than yours." He said with a smirk as he left.

Dean barked out a laugh. "I like him." He strode back out into the hall. "We'll get out of your hair. The statue's worthless now. I'd burn it just to be safe. Second floor stair landing." He bent and got Sam up, his arm across his shoulders.

"Dean wait, you need medical help or rather he does." Cutter watched the blood drain from the younger man's face, his eyes close. He jumped ahead and stopped Sam's slide to the floor; helping Dean hold him. "Come back to the ARC with us."

Dean studied the older man. Something about him reminded him a bit of Bobby. "Look, what we do…authorities don't usually get it." He sighed. "It's always been in our best interests to keep off the radar if you know what I mean."

"I promise no one is going to do anything to you." Cutter said solemnly. "Let us heal your hurts and you can be on your way. Besides, I'd like to hear a bit more about what it is you do. It could be important."

"More than you know." Dean said cryptically.

"Wanna know more…about the anomaly's." Sam slurred and raised his head slowly. "Ow."

Dean chuckled. "Ok, geek but only if you stay awake." He hefted Sam higher on his shoulder and braced his other arm across Sam's chest to steady him from tipping forward.

Cutter smiled and nodded. "Good."

Abby came out of the parlor and stood looking up at them. "Thanks for saving the idiot for me." She grinned as the brothers chuckled. Dean sent an appraising look over her, always one to appreciate a truly attractive woman.

"Come on then." Cutter said as the first medical team clattered into the entry hall. "In there." Cutter waved them into the parlor. "Connor's gone and got himself hurt."

One of the medics rolled his eyes. "Klutz." He muttered fondly and bustled off.

"Ghosts and dinosaurs in one day." Dean chuckled as he aimed Sam for the door and started him out of the house. "Dude it's like Sammy Christmas."

"Bite me." Sam grumbled up at him even as his eyes sparkled with curiosity and he concentrated on walking.

Cutter laughed and followed them out shaking his head. He didn't know why the existence of the supernatural should surprise him; he routinely traveled through time. He laughed again and thought it was going to be an interesting night.

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_The End._


	7. For Murphy9202

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Info: For murphy9202 - I want a Sam and Sarah Blake story. The story is set in season 8 sometime after Sam gets Dean out of Purgatory. Something happens that causes Sam and Dean to retire from hunting. Sam finally keeps his promise to go back and see Sarah. He still thinks of Sarah after all these years. He wants to see if she still has any feelings for him. He eventually tells her everything about his life. They get together and get married. They may have some trouble along the way. Dean settles in the same town to be close to Sam. He also finds someone to settle down with. I would like some hurt or sick Sam in the story. I would also like for Sam and Sarah to have a child or children. You fill in the rest of the details and story.
> 
> A/N: So obviously this one is tagged to 1x19 "Provenance" :D And as requested, set in the future sometime during or after Season 8.

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Sam leaned against a post on his front porch and looked out on the quiet street in front of his house. He took a sip of his beer, pleasantly chilled for the coming heat of the afternoon and smiled. His smile widened as he saw his big brother step out of a house across the street. He returned the wave Dean sent him and watched him as he checked the mailbox and then headed over to him. Not for the first time it struck him that their lives now were something of a miracle. He noted the slight hitch in Dean's step, remembering the wound that had caused it, the wound given to him in Purgatory. He shivered in spite of the day's warmth to think of that time and how close he had come to losing him forever. He could hardly believe it was only a year ago. So much had changed in that time.

Sam had done what no one ever had before in his efforts to save his brother; he had put together a sort of worldwide army of Hunters with the help of Charlie. The network she had created had allowed them to work together, hunting down the remaining Leviathans. It had also given him the access he needed to people with the information he needed. It had taken him months while the Leviathans went down one after another to piece together the information to save Dean and he'd never given up. He watched Dean stop to rub the ears of the neighbor's over friendly dog and grinned. Once he'd retrieved Dean from Purgatory they had spent the time Dean healed talking and come to the same conclusion; They had given enough, suffered enough and Hunting would be someone else's job from then on. They were done. Oh, Sam still checked in to the network now and again, finding himself turning into Bobby; handling obscure research jobs for other Hunters now and again but he stayed out of the game. He had no interest anymore in being out there, nor did Dean for which he was eternally grateful. He knew that if Dean had changed his mind, he would have gone with him.

He looked down to the ring on his hand and smiled again, softer. Sam had told Dean shortly after they'd retired that he needed to see someone, he needed to find Sarah Blake. He had never forgotten her or the way she had touched his heart while they'd dealt with that damned cursed painting. He had felt something with her he hadn't felt since Jess and it had stayed through the years. He looked up to see Dean crossing the yard with an easy smile. Dean had clapped him on the shoulder with a laugh and told him it was about damn time.

"Hey, Dean." Sam called. He bent and picked up the second beer he'd brought, tossing it to him.

"Mornin', Sammy." Dean caught it and cracked it open.

"It's afternoon, Dean." Sam told him with a chuckle.

Dean shrugged and smirked. "I was busy."

"Uh huh." Sam rolled his eyes, sure that it was Dean's fiancée who had kept him. That Laura had not only managed to catch Dean but convince him to settle down was another little miracle. He smiled so much easier these days, more when she was around and shortly after Sam and Sarah had bought their house, Dean and Laura had bought the one across the street. Dean had said at the time that they'd spent their whole lives in each other's pockets and there was no way he was living more than a block away. Dean planned on still being around to torment his little brother when they were ninety in their wheelchairs. He'd also mentioned that they'd have a hot nurse so Dean could pinch her butt and be a proper, dirty old man. Sam smirked at the memory. "Come on then."

"Dude, you owe me so much pie now." Dean said happily as they went down into the yard and headed around the back of the house to the addition they were building. It wasn't big but it would be big enough, Sam thought with another smile and followed Dean up the ladder where they were adding the beginning of the roof over the partly open walls.

"You keep eating pie every day you're gonna be too fat to get up here." Sam teased him and ducked the mock swing Dean threw at him.

"No such thing as too much pie, little brother." Dean walked carefully over the open beams to where the new roof met the old and dropped to sit on an open beam.

They worked companionably for a couple hours, nailing in boards, laughing, joking, enjoying the summery day like…normal people Sam thought and shook his head slowly. He wondered if he would ever stop being surprised by their lives now.

"You boys have got to be thirsty by now." Sarah's voice rose up to them and Sam's face instantly split in a grin. He looked over the side and saw his beautiful wife standing blow, her hair lit in a halo of sunlight as she smiled up at him. "I've got a fresh pot of lemonade."

"Lemonade?" Dean groaned theatrically. "You gotta offer hard working men a real drink! We don't come down unless there's beer."

Sarah laughed and rolled her eyes. "Did I mention, there's pie?"

"Pie?" Dean looked up with a devilish grin. "Now you're talkin'." He rose and stepped lightly across the open beams to the ladder. "Come on, Sammy. Pie!"

"Man you are hopeless." Sam shook his head with a laugh and set his hammer aside. He followed Dean to the ladder and waited for him to go down before tossing his own leg over the side onto the first rung. He grabbed the rail and pulled his other leg. Sam gasped and it seemed to happen in slow motion. The leg of his jeans caught on a nail as he pulled his leg, it threw him off balance as his foot slipped off the ladder's rung. He lost his grip on the ladder's rail as he felt himself falling and all he could think before he hit was 'stupid!'

"Sammy!" Dean shouted and flinched as Sam thumped into the yard, hard. He was instantly at his side, heart in his throat. "Sam." He put a hand to his neck as Sarah took Sam's face in her hands, panic shooting across her face.

"Sam?" Sarah called and sobbed in relief as his eyes opened to look up at them.

"Ow." Sam said softly. He raised a hand to his head, quickly grabbed by Dean.

"Dude, don't move." Dean told him.

"M'okay. I think." Sam then moved his leg and cried out as pain like fire burned up his leg.

"Ok, ok. Don't move." Dean took his shoulder in a tight grip. "Sarah." He looked up and waited for her terrified eyes to meet his. "It's ok. He's ok. Go call an ambulance." Sarah nodded. She dropped a kiss to Sam's lips and ran into the house. "There are easier ways to get out of finishing the roof, Sam."

Sam looked up at his little smile and knew it was hiding the panic Dean really felt. He could see it in his eyes. "I'm ok." He said, closing his eyes to swallow back the nausea the pain of the broken leg brought and he was sure it was broken. Nothing else hurt quite like that, he knew all too well.

"Course you are." Dean smoothed a hand through Sam's hair, shoving the shaggy locks he refused to cut off of his face. "Probably couldn't see the damn ladder through that mop."

Sam took comfort in the familiar touch and even more when Sarah returned and cupped her hand around his face. "I'm ok, sweetheart." He told her and she nodded, outwardly calm even as he could see the still bubbling fear in her eyes.

Days later, Sam lay in a bed in the Hospital and counted the spots on the ceiling while his brother chuckled beside him.

"Dude, you're high." Dean observed. He watched his little brother giggle, actually giggle and shook his head. "The good stuff always trashes you." He worked hard to swallow back the fear that still swirled through him. He didn't think he would ever forget that moment; Sam toppling from the roof or the sound as he had hit the ground. To lose his brother after everything they'd been through, everything they'd survived and to a stupid nail…he shook his head and dropped a hand to Sam's shoulder again, needing the contact to calm him.

"Dude." Sam laughed and raised a hand to Dean, hitting his chin instead of his shoulder where he'd been aiming. "Stop. Lighten up!" He told Dean cheerfully. "We won. We earned some happiness."

Dean's brows rose in surprise that Sam had so accurately guessed what he'd been thinking, even with the drugs. "Outta my head, Sammy." He captured the still swinging hand and put it back on the bed with a sidelong glance to Sam's leg, now covered in a cast and raised above the bed in a sling. He had broken it in five places. It would be months healing and more than a week for him in the hospital.

"I'm gonna be fine." Sam said and reached up again until Dean took his arm. "Am fine." He snickered. "Got married."

"I noticed." Dean said with a chuckle. "I was there."

Sam smiled and thought back to those days. He had found Sarah where he'd left her; in the Gallery. The smile that had broken across her face when she'd seen him had told him what he had hoped as they'd driven there. Dean had left him to it and they spent days together, him and Sarah. Mostly they had just talked. One dark night as they lay out under the stars she had asked him to tell her everything and, to his surprise, he had. Sam had told her everything, every painful detail. He'd decided that he wanted no secrets and no lies. If she were going to love him it would have to be for all of him and he told her everything. She had laughed and cried, held him and sobbed, run her fingers through his hair when he couldn't hold back the tears and as the morning's first light touched the sky he had looked at her and seen the love in her eyes and the acceptance. Sam had told her she was a singular woman, making her blush and laugh. That night had passed a calm over him he hadn't thought he'd ever feel again.

They had become engaged in what was probably record time. Neither of them wanted to waste a day. Dean had only shaken his head and laughed when Sam had called to tell him; saying he'd been waiting for that call. Dean had come. The wedding arrangements flew by and he had thrown his little brother a bachelor party that had left Sam near puking during his own wedding while his big brother grinned like an idiot beside him.

Sarah stuck her head in the room then and grinned. "How loopy is he?"

Dean looked up with a laugh. "Counting the spots on the ceiling I think." He released Sam's hand and stood, stretching. "I'm gonna go home for a bit. Laura should be back soon."

"You married a Baker." Sam giggled again and slapped a hand into Dean's side. "All pie all the time."

"Damn straight, Sam." Dean grinned and ruffled his hair before he left, dropping a light kiss on Sarah's cheek as he passed.

Sarah moved to take his place and eagerly bent into the arms Sam stretch up for her. "I've never seen anyone as goofy on pain medication as you, love." She chuckled and squeaked when Sam tumbled her onto the bed with him.

"You're pretty." Sam said and caught her mouth in a kiss. "And mine." He pulled across his lap as she laughed. She was careful not to bump his raised his leg and came to rest at his side stretched across his stomach. Sam dropped a hand to her stomach and the growing the bulge there; smiling the goofiest happy smile she'd ever seen. "I'm gonna have a cast when our baby's born. Sucks."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Well his Uncle will make up for it I'm sure." She laughed. "He's been over every day to make sure I have anything I need. Laura's practically living with me. She only goes home at night when Dean comes over to take her home." She laughed again at Sam's giggle. "Our boy's going to be well taken care of."

"You're so sure it's going to be a boy." Sam smiled up at her, hand still resting on her stomach.

Sarah smirked. "I know it. A woman knows these things." It made him laugh and giggle again, the sound easing the fear that had still lurked in her thoughts after the accident.

He saw the shadow of lingering fear in her eyes and brushed a hand through her dark hair tenderly. Sam remembered the night Crowley had come to them. They had just decided to marry, we're celebrating and the King of Hell had appeared in front of them with his usual superior smirk. He'd told them of an uprising in hell led by Meg and Sam had been surprised she still lived and even more that she had finally made her move. Crowley had told him he was going to help him put her down, he and Dean. Before Sam had been able to tell him where to go Crowley had flung Sarah against the wall pinning her there. He'd threatened her life, pointing out Sam's idiocy in thinking he could live a normal life; had asked Sam how he would like to see a reenactment of his mother's death; of Jess'. The old anger had swallowed Sam and he'd agreed to Crowley's terms. The King of Hell had left with a chuckle. Sam had wrapped Sarah in his arms and they waited for Dean's arrival.

The brothers had decided they had one last hunt to take care of. They were going to make sure any interested parties knew the Winchesters wouldn't be screwed with ever again. They laid a trap for the King of Hell who came all too willingly; believing he was in no danger in his arrogance. It had been his downfall. They killed him, enjoying the look of shock in his eyes. They then summoned Meg and tossed her his head making sure she understood they should be left alone. The naked fear in her eyes had made it clear she did and she had left them, taking the head with her.

Since that day not a single Demon had shown its face to them, nor Angels either. They had called Castiel and asked his aid in making sure Heaven left them alone as well; they were done being pawns in someone else's game. Sam had never been more grateful of anything than being able to save the Angel from Purgatory along with his brother. He wondered sometimes how Castiel managed to keep his word, seeing as he was longer one of Heaven's finest but Cas had assured them he could do it and would and had.

Sam shook his head and decided he didn't care how Cas had managed it. He drew Sarah in closer, resting his head in her hair and inhaled the scent of her with a smile. "You make me happy." He murmured into her hair and could hear her smile in her laugh.

Two weeks later, with the multiple fractures in Sam's leg finally set to the satisfaction of the medical community; he was allowed to return home. "Dean would you get out of that thing." Sam rolled his eyes as his big brother rolled around the corner in a wheelchair to match his own.

"Come on, Sammy." Dean grinned, unrepentant. "Race ya to the doors!"

Sam shook his head with a laugh and then smirked. He took hold of his wheels while his wife laughed and shot ahead of Dean.

"You little shit!" Dean shouted and struggled to catch him up. "Cheater!"

They laughed and tossed insults as they raced down the hospital corridor. Passing nurses and patients either laughed or yelled at them but they payed it no mind and screeched to a stop at the entrance to the hospital with breathless laughter.

"Dude, you cheated." Dean slapped Sam's shoulder.

Sam chuckled. "Can't beat your little brother with a broken leg. You're getting slow old man."

"Soon as you can walk." Dean threatened with a mock scowl. "You're gonna pay for that one."

"Ok, children." Laura said as she and Sarah finally caught up to them. "Play time's over."

Dean looked up at his wife with a leering grin and tugged her easily into his lap. "Not just yet."

"Dean!" Laura protested as he dropped sloppy kisses around her neck. "Knock it off!" She laughed, face reddening and finally got away.

Sam smirked and let Sarah push him outside, Dean and Laura following. "Dean's going to drive you home." Sarah said as she pushed him toward the familiar, comforting shape of the Impala in the parking lot. She leaned over and kissed him lustily. "I'll go with Laura."

"Leaving the hospital in style, Sammy." Dean said cheerfully as he strode up to the car with his arm around Laura. He glanced to the little car next to the Impala and turned his nose up with a sniff. "Disgrace. My little brother in that energy saving midget car."

Sarah laughed as she always did when Dean insulted their car. "Get him home in one piece please." She slapped his arm and went to the aforementioned car with laura.

"Come on, kiddo." Dean opened the Impala's passenger door and helped Sam up out of his chair and then in to the seat.

"Dude." Sam shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Kiddo."

Dean snorted. "Little brother. Deal with it."

Sam chuckled, resigned and smiled in affectionate familiarity as the Impala's engine rumbled to life; the low growl thrumming through the seats as they pulled out and away from the hospital. He knew people over the years had pitied them, thinking them poor because their only home had been a car but Sam ran a hand over the door panel with another smile; they didn't understand. She wasn't just a car.

"Stop fondling my baby." Dean said with another snort of laughter. "Scenic route." He announced, turning away from home. "Too damn nice out today to sit inside." Sam offered no argument and just enjoyed a drive with his brother and their home of a car.

An hour later they pulled into the driveway at Sam's house, both feeling peaceful. Dean got out and came around the passenger side. He pulled the crutches from the backseat and helped Sam to unfold himself out of the car and stand. "We're gonna cook out." Dean grinned. "Girls wanted time to put up streamers or something." He rolled his eyes. "Told 'em all they had to do was set out the beer and we'd be good."

Sam chuckled as he negotiated the sidewalk and stairs up to the porch with Dean hovering at his side. "Don't think I'm allowed to have beer and pain meds at the same time."

"I think we can make an exception. How goofy can you get?" Dean slapped his back as he opened the front door so Sam could hobble through.

Sam navigated through the house heading for the kitchen where he could hear the girls talking and laughing. "We're home!" He called as he stepped in and wobbled as Sarah rushed forward to wrap him in a hug.

"Took you long enough!" Sarah let him go, steadying him from the front as Dean's hand stayed on his back for a moment. "Come on." She pulled gently and Sam found himself pulled and pushed through the kitchen and then the living room toward the addition he and Dean had been working on when he'd fallen. His mouth dropped open in shock as he stepped through the doorway. It had been finished during his time in the hospital.

"Surprise, Sammy." Dean said cheerfully and then took his shoulders. "Geez make a hole dude!" He steered Sam out of the door and into the room.

"You finished it." Sam said in awe. The baby's nursery was completed; the walls, window, ceiling. It had been painted in the cheerful green he and Sarah had chosen, the rug Sarah had spent weeks working on lay on the floor. The Crib and other needed furniture they had been collecting was put together and arranged around the room, even the mobile of stars and planets that Dean thought Sam hadn't known he was making hung above the crib, swinging gently in the breeze from the open window. He felt moisture gathering in his eyes as Sarah leaned up against his side, her head on his shoulder.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" She asked and Sam nodded, still unable to speak. "We'll go get the bbq going." She said softly and turned a happy smile to Dean with a nod.

Dean took her place and tossed an arm over Sam's shoulders. "All the comforts of a Winchester home, Sammy." He pointed to the walls. "Flame retardant paint, not to mention the holy water we worked into the mix." He then pulled a small black light from his pocket and held it up, turning it on. Sam watched in awe anew as the walls lit up with Enochian sigils and a Devil's Trap peeked out around the edges of Sarah's rug on the floor. "Window frame is solid iron treated with salt." He smiled. "Learned that one from Bobby." He tightened his arm around his brother's trembling shoulders. "Aint nothing getting in here after my nephew. Not one…damn…thing, Sammy."

Sam felt happy tears running down face and couldn't care to stop them. It was perfect and so very Dean. He let his crutches drop and threw his arms around his big brother, crushing him in a hug. "Thank you."

Dean laughed and hugged him back, laughing when he realized he was actually holding Sam up on his bum leg.

Sarah came back into the room and smiled, her own eyes sparkling with unshed tears as she took them in. She sniffed and clapped a hand on Dean's shoulder. "One side, big guy. My turn."

Dean chuckled and carefully transferred a wobbling Sam to his wife. "Good. Gotta go help Laura. Woman's a menace with a match."

Sam snorted and laughed, he did a lot of that these days. He held Sarah and rested his chin in her hair. They both laughed as they watched through the window and saw Dean dash outside to his wife by the grill. He wrapped her up in his arms and started a wrestling match for the matches she held that involved more groping and laughing than actual wrestling. "I'm home." Sam whispered and tightened his arms around Sarah. She looked up into his eyes, her own wet and gave him a kiss.

"Come on." She bent and grabbed up his crutches. "Before they set the backyard on fire."

Sam laughed and let her slide in under his left arm, taking the place of that crutch. "Pretty sure the yard's safe but if we don't get out there the neighbors'll get a whole different kind of show." He said, referring to Dean and Laura's habit of R-rated public displays of affection. They went back through the kitchen and out onto the porch and Sam wrapped himself up in his family, his miracle and smiled. He was at peace.

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_The End._


	8. For Hinfallend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Info: For Hinfallend - Maybe just the boy getting back to the motel and taking care of their wounds from the hunt. I dunno Something along those lines with brotherly fluff/or angst (either fluff or angst is good with me)
> 
> A/N: For no particular reason set vaguely somewhere in the first season…back when a little brotherly fluff wasn't such a rare occurrence. :D

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The motel room sat in darkness and silence; it's deep red carpeting warming the brown blankets on the twin beds and wood paneling on the walls. A cheap, flea-market painting of a sea scape hung over the beds and tried to look as though it hadn't been painted in an art school but somewhere nobler. The television sat waiting, the bathroom door open in readiness for the next time it would be needed. The room had seen countless people in and out, comforted them in sleep and soothed them in wakefulness. It sat ready now as the door banged open thoughtlessly into the wall and the light clicked on bringing it to wakefulness.

"Crap. Watch it, Sammy." Dean flinched as Sam's hand brushed his bleeding side where it dangled over his shoulder.

"Sorry." Sam shifted his hand and took a little more of his weight as Dean steered him around to the far bed, settling him on top of the warm, brown blanket. Sam sighed, happy to be sitting again and somewhere more comfortable than the cramped seat of the Impala; his leg had not been happy. He looked down to the shredded denim turned red with his own blood and sighed.

Dean straightened, trying to relieve the pain in his side and looked back at the carpet and the glistening wet drops soaking into it. He supposed they should be grateful for the deep red color as it soaked up the blood and hid it away. At least that was one charge they wouldn't have to worry about from the motel.

"Get the kit." Sam told him and eased his leg up onto the side of the bed. "Gotta sew you up first."

"No way, man. That leg is bad." Dean shook his head. "That needs sewing first."

"Dean, I'm not going to be good for much of anything by the time you're done with this." Sam waved a hand at his leg without looking; looking made it hurt more. He smirked. "Stop bitching and get on with it. The longer you argue with me the longer my leg waits." He crossed his arms and waited.

Dean growled. "Stubborn ass." He turned and bent stiffly to pull the first aid kit from the bag on the stand by the beds.

"Gosh. I wonder who I learned that from." Sam said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Dean gave him a light cuff up the back of his head when he turned and chuckled. He couldn't argue. He pulled over a chair and spent a frustrating minute pulling his shirt off over his head against the burning pull at his side. "Balls."

Sam snorted as Dean sat next to him, turning so he could get to the gash. "Sound like Bobby. Hold still." Sam pawed through the bag and pulled out the disinfectant. The gash ran from his side around halfway to his navel. It was shallow but long and had bled copiously for a while. He used a clean rag from the kit soaked in the alcohol to clean the fresh and dried blood from around, whispering an apology as Dean flinched and held himself still. He had made maybe half the needed stitches when Dean's hand came down as he squirmed and grabbed it.

"Dude, don't…wait." Dean shoved Sam's hand away, his own hovering over his side as he gasped in a breath, his face pale and flushed at the same time. "Holy crap! That itches, hurts and tickles all at the same time. Not fair!"

Sam laughed and moved his hand out of the way. "You big baby." He started stitching again and tried to be more careful not to pull at the skin more than he had to. It was sheer bad luck the gash ran across one of the more ticklish spots on his big brother. He tied off the last stitch finally, patted more alcohol over it and taped a bandage around his side. "Ok." Sam flopped back onto his bed with a groan. "Your turn."

Dean put his right arm down finally and groaned. "Last time we hunt Chitterlings. I swear." He said ruefully. They weren't that large, about the size of Golden Retrievers with thickly tufted hair; they were magically transformed pigs unique to the south. It was the long, razor claws on their tree toed hands that had caused all the trouble. "I think I hate them."

"I know I do." Sam's voice followed him into the bathroom. Dean smirked. He grabbed the little trashcan from under the sink and brought it back out with him and some fresh towels. He was so damn tired, he just wanted to fall into bed but Sam's leg wouldn't keep. He tugged the whiskey bottle from the bag as well and took a long drink.

"Ok, let's see if you're gonna be stumpy or not." Dean said, laughing at the disgusted look on Sam's face. He put the trashcan next to the bed near Sam's head and then pulled out the little scissors from the first aid kit. "Just in case you decide to toss your cookies." Sam flipped him a finger and Dean bent to cut the remains of Sam's jeans from his left leg. Dean hissed in sympathy at the three oozing cuts running at an angle from his knee to just above his ankle. "That little bastard got you good, kiddo."

"I'm gonna enjoy…eating Pork from now on." Sam said and then concentrated on not moving while Dean cleaned them. He squirmed, gasping and gritted his teeth through the pain that flashed up through his leg and straight into his head. "Crap."

"Ok, Sammy." Dean finished cleaning the cuts and rested a hand on Sam's other knee, giving him time to rest and collect himself. He watched him pant and the pain on his face until after a few minutes Sam nodded shortly to say he was alright. "First stitch." Dean warned him, picking up the needle and threading it. He bent to the rent flesh and kept his left hand braced on Sam's ankle to keep his leg from jerking. It wasn't needed though, Sam only flinched slightly.

The little curved needle dove in and out of Sam's leg, pulling the edges of the wounds together. Sam's face was pale above him on the pillow, eyes shut tight as he breathed heavily through his nose. "How you doin?" Sam gave him another short nod and that was all he got. Dean turned back to his stitching, concerned. Poor kid was in a lot of pain. He finished with the first and deepest of the cuts and moved on to the second. He was only half done when Sam jerked.

"Dean." Sam managed and then threw himself to the side of the bed, leaning over as what little he had eaten that day came back up. Dean held the basket up close to his head with one hand and rubbed the other back and forth across his back, trying to offer some comfort.

"Breathe, Sam." Dean suffered with him, unable to stop from remembering the times he'd done much the same for him as a kid when he was sick. There were few things Sam hated more than throwing up and it always took a lot out of him.

Sam heaved a few more times, gasping for air now his stomach had stopped revolting and fell back into the bed, boneless. "Yeck." He said with a voice gone hoarse.

Dean grabbed the whiskey bottle. "Here. Take care of that taste." He slid an arm behind Sam and helped him sit up so he could take a gulp from the bottle. Sam grimaced as he swallowed and lay back, exhausted.

"Finish it." Sam told him, ready to be done with the pain.

Dean dropped a pat on his shoulder and went back to his needle and thread still dangling from Sam's leg. He made the next few stitches with barely a movement from Sam. The heaving had taken whatever energy he had left, Dean knew.

"When are we gonna find Dad?" Sam asked suddenly in a small voice, his eyes never opening. He was floating somewhere between awake and asleep and didn't really know if he'd said it aloud.

Dean froze for a moment and then started again. "Don't know, Sammy. We'll find him."

"Gotta." Sam muttered. His sweat covered head rolled on the pillow. The pain and blood loss were beginning to suck him under. He almost couldn't feel the needle anymore.

Dean frowned as he felt the start of a fever warming the skin of Sam's leg beneath his hands. "Ah crap." He looked up and saw the same signs on his brother's face; translucent skin and sweat soaked hair even as he began to shiver lightly. He pulled the first aid kit over and dug through it looking for the antibiotics. He came up with the little bottle and rattled it, hearing only a single pill inside and groaned, slapping himself. "Idiot. Ok, Drug store drive by tomorrow." He'd neglected to refill them the last time they'd used them. He took a moment to sit straight and relieve the pain in his side before bending again to the leg. He finished the last dozen stitches and leaned back with a sigh. He picked up the bottle of alcohol and grimaced.

"Sorry, kiddo." Dean said softly and poured it over the newly closed wounds. Sam shouted in pain and lurched up from his half doze.

"Whoa, tiger. You're ok." Dean grabbed his shoulders and held on to him as Sam looked wildly around before finally settling on his face. "You with me?"

"S…sorta." Sam nodded weakly and let his chin rest on his chest, just too tired to hold it up anymore.

"Good enough." Dean eased his head back down to the pillow. He carefully wrapped bandages around the leg, lifting it only when necessary as Sam groaned each time he moved it. Finished, he pulled the blanket out from under his brother and draped it over him. He grabbed the trashcan and took it into the bathroom to give it a quick rinse, figuring Sam would need it again at some point if the fever took hold.

He went tiredly back out into the main room, refusing to look in the mirror and see just how spent he was. Dean set the can back by the bed and ran a hand under the fringe of dark hair stuck to Sam's forehead. He was warm but not yet worriedly so and Dean smiled. He went and sat on his own bed, groaning with relief as he leaned back against the headboard. He looked over again to Sam's pale face.

"M'fine." Sam said softly, surprising his brother.

Dean had thought he was out cold and chuckled. "Yeah, well you look like hammered crap little brother." Dean informed him and settled back again, letting his head thump back into the wall. "Never moving again."

"S'too bright." Sam mumbled.

Dean grumbled and reached a long arm over to the light switch. "Night, Sammy." He clicked it off.

Peaceful darkness settled over the little motel room and its charges; wrapped in its blankets and protected from the cold outside by its walls they slept in peace. The little heater under the window turned itself on, blowing gentle heat into the room and over the form of the man who hadn't made it under his blanket. The room took his grateful sigh as thanks and settled for the evening around them.

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_The End._


	9. For judyann

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Info: For judyann - Do you think you could do teenchester? Maybe Sam and Dean on a hunt and it's Sam's first time getting hurt on a hunt and Dean feels guilty. if you want to throw dad and Bobby in that would be fine!
> 
> A/N: I love doing Teen and Wee!Chesters. lol They're always fun and full of fluff. :P What's not to love?

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"I don't like it." Bobby growled and not for the first time as he watched John Winchester pack up his bag.

"It's a simple hunt, Bobby." John rolled his eyes. "They're not even going after the witch."

"He's too damn young yet and you know it." Bobby threw a disgusted hand at him. "Sam aint even five feet tall and you're sending him after a damn Grizzly?"

John snorted. "He is too. He's five three and you know it." He tossed an amused look over his shoulder. "Just looks short next to Dean." And that burned his pride a little, that his son had overtopped him at only seventeen. Sons shouldn't be taller than their fathers. At least Sam wasn't likely to get taller, he thought. His youngest looked to be heading toward short as he grew precious little each year. "I'm going after the Witch."

"And you don't think a bewitched Grizzly might be too much for a kid?" Bobby threw the work rag he'd been worrying at the counter. "Damn thing could eat him up in one gulp." The Witch John was tracking had been wreaking havoc in a nearby town for weeks with a Grizzly bear at her command. It had taken him three days to pin down the little house she was working out of. He had decided he would take the Witch down while the boys went after her bear. He thought it was a perfect first hunt for Sam.

"Bobby he'll be fine." John assured him.

"Course he will." Dean said as he came in the room with Sam under one arm. "I'll be with him. Grizzly won't get a bite of him." Dean looked down with a smirk. "Bite's about all he is."

Sam rolled his eyes. "He won't want me. I'm too small. He'll eat you first."

"Midget." Dean wrapped an arm around Sam's neck and he rubbed his knuckles into the top of his head while Sam squirmed.

"Well I don't like it." Bobby insisted. "Come on. Give the kid another year or two."

John waved his concern away, becoming irritated. "I can raise my own sons, Singer. Dean will be with him. They'll be alright."

"Aint nothin' happening to Sammy while I'm there." Dean said imperiously, letting Sam loose from the neck hold.

"Come on, boys." John tossed his bag over his shoulder and gave a look to Bobby as he headed out.

"You boys be careful." Bobby took each of their shoulders in a firm grip. "You watch each other's backs." He turned his intent gaze on Sam. "You don't take any foolish chances. You hear me?"

Sam nodded. "Yessir."

"BOYS!" John's impatient bellow came from outside and Dean grinned.

"Gotta go." Dean grabbed Sam and pulled him along. "We're coming!"

Bobby watched them go with a heavy heart and he hoped John's confidence would prove true.

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Dean parked the Impala behind his father's truck in the little wood and he and Sam both climbed out. Together they went around to the trunk and once Dean opened it, the each took out a rifle. Sam's had had the barrel sawed off to make it less cumbersome for him and he rested the butt against his hip as they went to their father.

"Alright boys." John smiled at them and then put on his 'business' face. He knew Sam was nervous; he could see the tension in the boys' face. It reminded him of the first time he'd brought Dean on a hunt but…Dean had been even younger still. John studied his face and saw only eagerness and perhaps a shadow of worry for his little brother. He shook the thoughts from his head. "The Witch's house is just through those trees. I'm going to go in after her. Her Bear's been sighted in the woods on the other side of the house. You two are gonna go around and hunt it down."

Dean grinned and hefted his rifle. "Never took down a bear."

"Well don't get cocky now. It's just a bear but it's gonna be big." John warned. "Hit him in the heart or in the head. You wanna kill him fast." He looked to Sam. "You got all that?" Sam nodded solemnly, no grin on his face to match his brothers. "No wrestling the bear. You're not Davey Crocket." Now Sam's face did break into a smirk.

"Yes, Dad." Sam said with a small laugh.

"Good, now…" John broke off as the bass roar of a Grizzly sounded in the woods. He looked out toward the Witch's house and then back to them with a feral smile. "Sounds like your prey is here." He ruffled Sam's hair, clapped Dean on the shoulder. "Watch out for each other. Don't get dead."

Dean smiled at the words his father always spoke before a Hunt and dropped an arm to Sam's shoulders. "Catch ya later, Dad."

John watched his boys peel off into the trees and pushed down the worry that started to boil up. "They'll be fine." He told himself and hefted his bag and his gun. "It's just a bear." He turned and started moving softly through the trees, the moon a bright orb high above and just caught one last glimpse of his son's heads before they were gone.

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"Your first hunt, Sammy." Dean said happily and squeezed his shoulder as they went quickly through the forest, giving the house a wide berth as they caught glimpses of it through the trees. "You doin' ok?" He looked down and Sam's steady eyes met his.

"Yeah." Sam smiled back at him and hoped it hid the nervousness that was really consuming him. He'd been hunting loads of times with Uncle Bobby and Dean so it wasn't really anything new, though he'd never been as eager about killing Deer as Dean had been. This was different. This was a job and Dad and Dean were trusting him not to make a mess of it.

Dean gave him another smile and mussed Sam's hair. "You're gonna be fine, tiger."

Sam pushed his hand off with a glare. "Knock it off."

Dean chuckled. "Come on." They jogged easily through the trees and on the other side of the house found the first of the Grizzly's tracks leading away into the forest. "Game on, Sammy." Dean loped into the trees after it, altering his long-legged stride so Sam's shorter ones could keep up. He felt a small sense of pride at the easy way Sam moved beside him, his feet quiet and eyes scanning through the trees and following the tracks. He'd been waiting for the day he and Sam could hunt together as much as it scared him; Sam being in the way of danger.

"Dean." Sam hissed his name softly and pointed.

Dean smiled and nodded. He saw the softly steaming brown pile Sam had pointed too; the bear was close. He looked about the dense woods and then went to Sam, tapping his shoulder. He headed for a thicket of tree a few yards away and pulled Sam into them.

"Stay here." Dean told him in a soft voice and put his head close to Sam's ear. "I'm gonna go that way." He pointed. "And drive it around. We'll catch it between us." He patted Sam's shoulder and looked into his concerned eyes. "It'll be fine."

"You'll be alone." Sam hissed back at him, not liking the plan one bit. "We should stay together."

"Trust me, kiddo." Dean grinned. "Grizzly won't know what hit it." Sam gave him a tight nod and Dean squeezed his shoulder before stepping back out of the thicket. He went swiftly through the trees, no longer having to shorten his strides and kept his rifle ready. The moonlight was so bright that at times, as the boughs above spread apart it almost seemed like a dimly lit afternoon. Limbs parted before him as he followed the Grizzly's tracks. They turned suddenly and after several minutes Dean realized they were heading back…back toward Sam. His head whipped up, eyes piercing through the darkness. His heart thudded in his chest as Sam's voice came clearly, suddenly, screaming his name in abject panic.

"DEAN!"

Dean burst into a run. He heard the sharp report of a rifle and put on more speed, then the enraged roar of a Bear and he ran faster. He felt sure his heart would burst at any second with the terror coursing through him. He had left Sam alone and the Grizzly had found him. He'd left him alone. Dean spotted the stand of trees and drove through the screening branches with his rifle leading. What he saw stopped his wildly bounding heart for a beat; Sam lay sprawled on the ground, his rifle a few feet away. Blood spattered across his chest in thick streams through vicious tears in his shirt and the Grizzly stood over him. There was a wound in its chest, a little too low and to the left to have gotten its heart but more than enough to enrage the beast.

Dean brought the muzzle of his rifle up almost in a daze and fired. The bullet took the massive Bear in the side of the head and knocked it back a step as blood and darker things sprayed behind it onto the grass and leaves. It stumbled, turning to find its attacker and Dean shot again, bursting its heart in its chest. With a final rumbling growl the creature fell backwards with a loud thump, leaves blowing up gently in the air at its landing.

"Sammy." Dean gasped and slid to his knees beside his brother, his rifle falling to the ground forgotten. He pulled Sam's head and shoulders into his lap, cradling his head on his elbow and froze when Sam jerked and cried out with the movement. "Sorry. I'm sorry." Dean's hand hovered over his chest, unsure where or if he should touch him.

"Shot him." Sam said, his voice hoarse with pain and his eyes squeezed shut tight as he tried not to cry. "But he moved. Shot him an' he stood up. Missed."

"You did good, Sammy." Dean told him miserably. "It's ok. It's gonna be ok." Dean pulled him up a little more, careful of his chest and gently pulled the shreds of shirt up so he could see. Three long claw marks crawled high across Sam's pale chest. "I'm sorry, Sammy. I shouldn't have left you." He dropped his face into Sam's hair for a second and made himself take a breath. He needed to be calm for his brother. He needed to take care of this. What the hell had he been thinking?

"It's ok, Dean." Sam's hand came up and patted the arm hovering over his chest. "It's…not that bad. Just…hurts." He took shallow breaths and tried not to move his chest too much. "I shoulda been faster."

"This wasn't your fault." Dean told him fiercely. "You were plenty fast enough."

"Scared me." Sam said in a small voice. He'd watched Dean jog away; had been counting the minutes he was gone while he watched out for him and the bear. It had been the slightest snap of a twig behind him. He couldn't understand how something that big had moved so silently. He'd screamed for his brother in a moment of pure terror and then his father's training had taken over. He had raised his rifle as if by rote, aimed and fired but at the last second the Grizzly had reared back, making his shot go low and wide and then…he shivered at the memory of the giant paw coming for him and the claws raking through his skin.

"I know." Dean hushed him. "Gotta get you back. Just…just hang on. Take a breath ok?" Dean shifted Sam forward slightly and stood, bringing him up with him. Sam whimpered, trying to hunch forward against the new agony and his legs went out from under him.

"Can't Dean." Sam whispered through clenched teeth.

"Ok, Sammy. I got ya." Dean bent and picked up his rifle and Sam's, slinging them over his shoulder. Then he bent again and slid an arm behind Sam's knees, lifting his much lighter weight easily.

Sam rolled his head into his brother's neck, breathing in the scent of leather, of gun oil and soap and it made him feel slightly better, less scared.

Dean walked as quickly as he dared and did his best not to jostle his little brother in his arms. He knew the front of his own shirt was now red with Sam's blood; he could its warm trickle and it tore at him. Sam was hurt because of him, because he was stupid enough to leave the kid alone on his first hunt. He'd deserve every harsh word from Dad when he saw this and more. Sam's warm breath on his neck kept him from screaming out his self-loathing, comforting him that Sam was alive if not well.

His arms were burning by the time they came in sight of the Impala and their Dad's truck. Dean came out of the trees and flinched as he saw Dad coming back as well with a satisfied look on his face; a little blood spattered on his brown shirt. He knew the moment John registered them. His eyes went wide, the color drained from his face and he began running.

"Dean! Sam!" John's heart was in his throat. He didn't need words to know that something had gone very wrong. The bright red saturating his youngest boys' shirt was enough. He skidded to a stop as Dean neared the Impala and touched a gentle hand to Sam's shoulder. "What happened?"

"Bear got him Dad." Dean said and couldn't meet his eyes. "I left him alone. I shouldn't have I know it. I'm sorry. I left him alone and the bear circled around and got him." He risked a glance up but his Dad's eyes were solidly on his brother's chest as he peeled the shirt back. "He shot it though. Sammy shot the damn thing."

John ran a hand through Sam's overlong hair and saw blue-green eyes peeking at him through heavy lids. "You did good, kiddo." He looked up to Dean and swallowed the angry words swirling in his head because he knew, this wasn't really Dean's fault; it was his. "Let's get him to Bobby's."

"Bobby's?" Dean looked up, shocked. "Dad he needs a hospital! Look at him!"

"Dean, it's not that bad." John spoke calmly and tried to back down the fear naked in Dean's eyes. "They're shallow, probably don't even need stitches. We can take care of it."

"But Dad…" Dean wanted to argue but his father took his shoulder and gave him a shake.

"Bobby's, Dean. Now, hand him here." John took Sam's arm but Dean pulled back and kept his grip on his brother.

"I got him." Dean said firmly and stepped around their father. He was unwilling to let Sam go and wasn't feeling particularly charitable toward his Dad just then. Even so, he was grateful when Dad came up beside him and opened the passenger door, holding it wide as Dean eased Sam into the seat, settling him with his head back. He stood and took the door from his Dad, closing it and went past him around to the driver's side.

"Dean, take him to Bobby's." John said as Dean strode past, face grim. "A hospital isn't gonna do anything for him we can't do ourselves." He gave Dean a stern face. "Now stop panicking and get moving." He saw the dirty look cross his son's face before he turned and sighed. Being pissed at him would serve Dean far better than drowning in panic over Sam.

Dean slid behind the wheel and rumbled the engine to life as he watched his Dad climb up into his truck. He had to spend a moment quashing the internal rebellion that wanted to take Sam straight to the nearest Emergency Room. He swallowed hard and sped off back out to the road ahead of their Dad. He looked over at Sam as he drove and decided his father was probably right; he was too busy being guilty to really pay attention. He put a hand over on the back of Sam's neck and squeezed lightly.

"Ok, Sammy?" Dean asked quietly over the growl of the engine.

Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah. I'm okay." He cracked his eyes too look over at Dean. "Honest." He hissed softly and squirmed a little, trying to find a position that didn't burn with pain. "Hurts." He said softly.

"I know." Dean squeezed the back of his neck again and left his hand there. He broke speed records back to Bobby's with furtive glances to his brother who couldn't seem to get comfortable and the drops of blood that now colored the seat beneath him. They beat their Dad, barely and Dean was already out and running around the car as John pulled up. Sam managed to get the door open and then just hunched over his chest again wheezing through it.

"Thought I told you to let me do that." Dean growled as he reached in and gathered Sam up in his arms again.

"Sorry." Sam gasped and hid his face against Dean's shirt again. He didn't want them to see him crying because of the pain. He had wanted to so badly for Dean to be proud of him; for his father to be proud. Instead he'd ruined it.

Dean carried him up the steps into Bobby's house, his heart breaking as he felt the tears wetting his shoulder. He wondered how he'd get the door open when it whipped aside and Bobby was suddenly there.

"What the hell happened?" Bobby gasped at the sight, moving quickly out of the way as Dean pushed past him. He sent a dark look to John where he stood at the bottom of the porch steps before following them inside.

Dean laid Sam as carefully as he could on Bobby's couch. He slid behind Sam's head so that he rested against his side. His guilt wouldn't let him leave Sam alone, even for a moment. Sam was going to suffer for this and Dean was going to be there for every second. He watched his Dad come in and to the couch, kneeling quickly.

John placed a hand on Sam's cheek and smiled when his eyes opened. "Hey, kiddo. You're gonna be ok." Sam gave him a nod and closed his eyes again. He glanced up sharply at the hand the pushed him aside.

"I'll do it." Bobby said in a tight voice as he moved John and pulled a chair over, dropping into it. "Go boil some water or something." John seethed and nearly lit into Bobby right there but he swallowed it back and left the room.

"You know you're supposed to shoot the bears, not hug 'em, Sam." Bobby said and forced a smile for him as he peeled the remnants of Sam's shirt away. The blood stuck and he had to dribble a little water here and there to get it unstuck. Once the wounds were revealed Dean closed his eyes in misery. Bobby took his shoulder for a second. "You keep him still."

"S'gonna hurt." Sam said softly and nodded. "I know. It's ok."

A lump stuck in Bobby's throat at Sam's quiet words. The kid was bound and determined to not be treated like a kid. Bobby smiled at him. "You just hold on to your brother." He leaned in closer. "It's ok if ya cry, son. Hell, I do when I gotta get stitched up." Bobby lowered his voice even further. "I even seen your Dad shed a couple for stitches." Sam's eyes widened, incredulous and Bobby nodded sagely.

Dean smirked, grateful for Bobby. "Grab my hand, Sam." Dean let Sam take his hand and wrap his around his arm.

Bobby was as gentle as he could be cleaning the wounds. Even so, Sam flinched, moaned and every sound drove a knife into Dean's heart. His little brother was going through this because of him. He blew it. Dean said nothing when Sam's grip on his arm tightened painfully when Bobby bent with the needle. Saying there was one spot that needed a few. He tightened his arm across Sam's shoulders when Bobby started applying Butterfly bandages to the rest to close them.

"Easy, Sammy." Dean said softly as Sam moaned and pushed himself with his legs to get away from the burn of the antiseptic Bobby poured over the wounds. He shoved himself further into Dean's lap and collapsed in exhaustion when the older Hunter was done and putting careful bandages on his chest.

"All done, son." Bobby brushed a hand over Sam's forehead in relief. It had been as hard on him as it had on Dean. Both their faces showed the strain. Bobby had hoped it would be a good long time before he had to do something like this for the youngest Winchester. In truth, he always held a secret hope that Sam would choose a different life. The kid was so damn smart he just knew he had more in him than just hunting things. "You're gonna be fine. You did a great job stayin' still for me."

Sam couldn't even nod. It had taken every bit of self-control he had not to kick and scream like a little kid while Bobby worked. He was spent. Nothing had ever hurt like that before. He felt like a child and it irritated him and at the same time he hoped Dean wouldn't move soon. He needed him to be there. He started to say as much as Dean shifted under him and then realized Dean was just leaning back against the couch and pulling him in.

"Gotcha, kiddo." Dean let him lay back so he was across him and smiled, amused when Sam turned into him and buried his face in his shirt again. "Better?" Sam nodded and a moment later felt his brother relax into an uneasy sleep.

Bobby got up and went into the kitchen where he found John leaned against the sink with an untouched beer in his hand. "You wanna tell me how the hell he got so tore up?"

John glared up at him. "It was an accident." He quickly gave Bobby the information Dean had given him. John set the beer down with a thump. "Singer, you can have a go at me if you want but trust me, you're not gonna kick me harder than I'm kicking myself. I should have gone with them." He held up a hand. "I still think Sam was ready for this. I do. He's old enough and dammit he's almost as good a shot as Dean already. He's ready." He shook his head. "But I shouldn't have sent Dean off alone with him."

Bobby watched guilt chase anger across John's face and back again and sighed. "I'm still pissed at ya." He said finally. "And I don't agree with ya either but Dean's beatin' himself up enough for both of us right now. Maybe you oughta go tell him all this." He turned away from John and set about brewing a pot of coffee. After a minute he heard the man walk out of the kitchen and sighed lustily. "Hard-headed idjits every one of 'em."

John went into the living room and sat in the chair by the couch. "How is he?"

Dean looked carefully up at him and stilled the hand he'd been carding through Sam's dark locks. "Asleep. Finally."

John nodded. "Good. Dean, look…" He took a breath and ran a hand through his hair.

"I know I screwed up Dad." Dean said it for him. "I screwed up."

"No. You didn't. I did." John met the surprised green eyes and gave him a weary smile. "Dean I would have done exactly what you did. I would have split up. It was the best way to catch the bear." He put a hand on his eldest's shoulder. "The only difference is I should have been there. I should have been there so you didn't have to leave Sam alone. This is on me, Dean. All of it. I'm sorry."

Dean stared in shock. He wasn't sure he'd ever heard his Dad say those words quite that way.

John chuckled. "Close your mouth, Ace. Breathe." He shifted his hand to Sam's shoulder with a sigh. "He's gonna make us get him ice cream for this."

Dean snorted, amused in spite of himself. "Every five minutes."

"Those puppy dog eyes of his are gonna work overtime." John rolled his eyes and patted Dean's shoulder as he stood. "Get some sleep. We'll move him later."

Dean nodded and settled his head against the back of the couch as his Dad went back into the kitchen with Bobby. He carded his fingers through Sam's hair again and looked down at his sleeping face. "Won't happen again, Sammy. I won't leave you alone again. I promise." Finally he let himself slip into sleep, as exhausted as his brother from the ordeal but his hand never left his brother and he jerked his head up into wakefulness every time his Dad or Bobby came to check on them. He was a guard dog on watch and not even his father considered taking his charge away. 'Never again.' Dean thought to himself and fell back into sleep with Sam's heart beating under his hand to reassure him.

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_The End._


	10. For Colby's Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Info: For Colby's girl - I'd love it set in season one or two, old fashion haunting with an injured Sam and a caring and guilty feeling Dean.
> 
> A/N: Set in season 2 early on somewhere.

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Sam stared around the elegant entry hall of the old hotel and smiled. It had sat empty for two decades and it showed in dust, cobwebs and windblown debris around the walls but its character was still evident. The mouldings around the doors and walls, the graceful sweep of stairs vanishing into the floor above, even the imposing desk hidden beneath a stained drop cloth all spoke of the bygone days when the hotel had been a destination for the rich, the famous and the frivolous.

"This place is awesome." He said softly and heard his brother snort behind him.

"Such a geek." Dean said as Sam had expected but it sounded forced.

Sam watched Dean walk past him and sighed. It had been weeks since they had laid their father to rest but Dean still seemed trapped in a world of misery. When he talked to Sam, if he talked to him, it was angry and meant to push him away. He did his best not to be hurt. He understood this was how Dean dealt with loss. He raged and battled and refused to share any of the weight and eventually he would wear himself back down until he was 'Dean' again. Getting to that point however was damn tiring, Sam thought to himself as he followed Dean's steady stride into the hotel, not to mention lonely.

"Last guy got ganked in a ballroom the article said." Dean turned and raised a brow. Sam raised a hand to point to his left and Dean headed off.

The old hotel was being renovated. It had recently been purchased and there were big plans to open it back up. Shortly after the construction had begun, the first accidents started happening. There had been fallen scaffolding and broken legs, falls down stairs and one poor man who had 'stumbled' into an empty elevator shaft. He had been the first death. A little research at Bobby's had shown the hotel had its fair share of rumored spooks even back in the day. As usually happened in a place with harmless ghosts, any change upset them. The construction company had been busily tearing out walls, replacing stairs and all other sorts of building mayhem. It was no wonder something had become upset and lashed out. Unfortunately they had little idea who exactly the ghost or ghosts were and that made laying it to rest a problem until they did. So, first order of business, get a look at the spook and how it was dressed. That would give Sam a time frame to search.

"How many friggin ballrooms are in here?" Dean asked as they passed through one wide, high-ceilinged echoing hall into another.

"Five I think." Sam said and looked up as his voice gathered in the corners and came back to him. He lowered it. "Two down here on the first floor, and two or three on the second."

"Meter's got nothing." Dean commented and held up the EMF meter, it's needle sitting calmly, no lights or sound to register anything out of the ordinary.

"Hasn't noticed us yet." Sam looked about the second ballroom and saw a partly demolished wall. Beyond it lay what looked like part of a kitchen. There was a scaffold collapsed in front of the gap and an ominous chalk outline; the last man to die on the same day they had stopped the renovation indefinitely. There wasn't a construction crew anywhere around that would step into the place anymore. Dean went to the inner door and poked his head into the hall while Sam strode to the gap in the wall and looked in. It was part of the kitchen and stretched away around a corner. He climbed easily over the scattered rubble, his boots rang on the tile. He pulled out his flashlight and shined it around. There was evidence the construction crew had been using the place as an impromptu kitchen of their own; empty lunch sacks, wrappers, bottles. One of the stoves had been pulled out and had a makeshift connection to a gas line with a pot still sitting on a burner, a crust of something long gone bad crusted in the bottom.

"Come out; come out wherever you are, Casper." Dean said irreverently, his voice carried to Sam in the kitchen.

Sam smirked and shook his head. If anyone could irritate the ghost into showing itself, it was Dean.

"I'm gonna check upstairs." Dean's peaked around the open wall. "You find any pie you tell me." He vanished and Sam rolled his eyes.

Dean strode out of the ballroom and kept the EMF where he could see it. He wanted some warning if the ghost decided to make an appearance and he hoped it would soon. He was in the mood to shoot something. He ground his teeth. He saw the sympathetic glances Sam kept giving him and trying to hide. He knew his brother wanted him to share or some other stupid crap but all he could feel was a deep, abiding rage. He shouldn't be alive and he knew it. He had the sure knowledge that their father had sacrificed himself to save Dean and that stabbed at him every time he took a breath. He stomped up the curved staircase and kicked at one of the rungs. It cracked beneath the blow and sat askew.

"Come on. I'm messin' up your hotel." Dean kicked another rung as he reached the top. "That's gotta piss you off." He strode into the second floor hall, looking at all the closed room doors and stopped as the meter in his hand gave a small whine. "About damn time." He growled and held it up. The reading was weak but there. He looked back and forth down the long hall and scowled. "Well come on already. Let's have a look at you."

He jumped when a clash and bang came from below. Dean cursed and spun, sprinting down the stairs as the clatter continued and then cut off abruptly with the bang of a shotgun. "Sam!"

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Sam listened to Dean's steps retreating and strode deeper into the kitchen. Beyond a partition wall the mostly orderly kitchen became a scene of mayhem. A stove was overturned; racks were pulled from the walls and flung about haphazardly. Counters were upended and pots and pans strewn across the floor.

"Someone had fun." Sam murmured and wondered why a ghost would destroy the kitchen. He stepped around the debris carefully and then froze. His breath puffed out in front of his face despite the day's heat. "Wonderful." Sam brought his shotgun up and shined his flashlight around the room, waiting. The ghost had decided to come out and of course it would be after Dean went off with the EMF meter. The counters around him rattled, making his nerves jump. He ducked a pot rack that suddenly detached from the wall and flew at his head.

He spun around and finally got a glimpse of the ghost. It was a woman. Her face was contorted in a rage and she flung her diaphanous arms out at him. Sam was picked up by the cold power and flew backward in a spin. He saw the marble counter edge coming at him and could do little except take a breath before he slammed into it. He felt the edge press into his chest and his breath whooshed out of him as he felt and heard a rib crack with the impact. Sam tumbled to the floor in a daze as more pots and pans flew about the kitchen. He had somehow kept hold of his shotgun and brought it up as the ghost neared. He fired into her and she was blown apart on a scream.

"Crap." Sam groaned and used the counter to pull himself up. He hunched over it for a moment trying to breathe through the crushing pain in his chest, waiting for it to back off. He heard footsteps pounding closer and made himself stand up straighter as Dean leaped through the broken wall and ran up to him.

"Sam!" Dean glanced around the destruction. "You ok?"

Sam nodded. "Fine. Found the ghost." He smirked for Dean and got a small chuckle. "It's a woman and dude, she is pissed." He rubbed a hand absently over the right side of his chest and saw Dean frown. "Tossed me. I'm ok."

Dean frowned again but let it go. "You see enough of her to find her?"

"Maybe." Sam nodded. "She kind of looked like a Flapper."

"A huh?" Dean asked as they made their way back to the hole in the wall. Dean went easily over the rubble.

Sam had to take more care as each movement sent a shaft of pain through his cracked rib. "Flapper. They were kind of…outrageous women back in the twenties." He smirked at the suddenly interested look on Dean's face. "They wore short skirts and short hair. They smoked." He took a shallow breath and hid the grimace. "They drank and we're fans of uh…casual sex. You'd have liked the twenties."

Dean snorted a laugh. "Sounds like it." He led them out of the hotel and kept the EMF meter in his hand. You never knew how much time you had before a spirit found its way back. He wished the bitch had come after him. He squeezed his hand around the stock of the shotgun as they stepped out into the early evening air. "Pick it up, Sam. I wanna gank this wench."

Sam did his best to walk faster toward the car. He had started to lag behind, his chest burning. He fought it down and went around to the passenger side of the Impala. It still surprised him how it could look as though that horrible wreck had never happened. Sam trailed his fingers over her hood as he went and opened the door. He sucked in a short breath to brace himself and somehow managed to sit down without groaning aloud.

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Sam sat on the toilet in the bathroom, tediously wrapping a bandage around his chest. He'd snuck the bandage out of the first aid kit while Dean had been in the bathroom and now muffled his moans of pain with the towel between his teeth. It was only a cracked rib. They had a job to do and Dean didn't need him nursing a stupid injury. He had enough on his mind. Sam spent most of his time trying not to add to that weight. He jumped at the bang on the door.

"You camping out in there, Sam?" Dean scowled at the closed door. He wondered if Sam had been in there the whole time he'd been out getting food. The laptop was open on the table with a small stack of papers beside it still.

"Out in a minute."

Sam's voice came muffled through the door and Dean rolled his eyes and went to the food.

Sam groaned softly and finished wrapping the bandage. It gave him a small measure of relief from the pain, bracing the cracked rib and though he still couldn't take a deep breath he could breathe easier. He struggled back into his tee-shirt and pulled a flannel on over that. He checked in the mirror that the bandage wasn't visible and finally went back out.

"What the hell were you doing in there?" Dean asked, waving a burger at him.

"What? You want a play by play?" Sam asked and forced a smirk as he ignored the question and sat back down at the table and the laptop.

"Whatever." Dean shrugged it off and took another bite. He pushed a salad container to Sam. "You find our spook?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe." He picked up the little stack of papers and ignored the salad. The last thing he wanted was food. "There were a couple women who died in the hotel itself in the twenties but I couldn't find pictures of either them." He tossed a piece of paper toward Dean. "One of them is buried in a cemetery about twenty minutes from here. The other one is the problem." He waited until Dean looked up with a raised brow. "Her body was never found. Couple articles from the time speculate her lover hid her somewhere in the hotel."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Awesome. With our luck that's our spirit." He finished off his burger and sat back. "We'll be thorough. Eat up and we'll go salt and burn the one in the cemetery first and then head back to the hotel." It was barely ten o'clock at night. Plenty of time to dig up one grave and then check the hotel to see if they got lucky.

"I'm good." Sam closed the laptop and stood carefully, pulling his jacket off the back of the chair.

Dean studied him and the drawn look on his face. "You're not workin' up to another chick flick moment are you, Sam? Cause I'm not interested." Usually when Sam had the look of concentration on his face it meant he was trying to find a way to ask him about Dad. "Just suck it up and let's do the damn job."

Sam watched him walk out of the motel room and sighed. He took a moment to hunch over and relieve the pressure on his rib. When he heard the engine rumble to life he groaned and headed for the door. There had been a time when he couldn't hide so much as a bruise from his big brother. His radar for Sam's injuries was infallible but not these days; not after Dad. It was going to be a long night.

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Sam got lucky at the cemetery. Dean was in a foul mood and apparently had decided to work it off digging out the grave while Sam stood watch. If the woman whose bones Dean was currently pouring salt and lighter fluid over belonged to a now vengeful spirit, she didn't make an appearance.

Dean set the bones ablaze and dusted off his hands. "One down." He waited for the flames to die down and picked up his shovel. He looked over his shoulder. "Well? Faster we fill this in, faster we get to the hotel."

Sam sighed. He'd been hoping Dean would carry on but alas it was not to be. He leaned the shotgun against a headstone and took up the other shovel. At least he didn't have to climb down with his busted rib. He jammed the shovel in the pile of dirt and felt an instant sweat break out across his brow as he lifted and the abused rib yelled at him. He bit his tongue, clenched his teeth and carried on. If he was far slower than Dean, his brother didn't say anything for which he was grateful. Sam didn't want to be the reason they held off on the job and maybe let an angry spirit kill someone else.

An hour later and as the clock struck one in the morning, Dean eased the Impala to a stop in front of the dark hotel once more. Sam saw Dean scowl at him as he was slow getting out of the car.

"What's wrong with you?" Dean asked suddenly, preparing himself for another of Sam's attempts to draw him out.

"Nothing." Sam said and surprised. "Just tired."

Dean eyed him suspiciously as Sam went to the trunk and opened it, taking out their shotguns. He handed Dean's to him and took a small hand axe as well in case they needed to punch a hole in a wall somewhere to find a hidden body. He tossed Dean's EMF meter to him and shut the trunk. "Let's go. Maybe we got lucky."

"We never get lucky." Dean said darkly. He headed for the entrance and paid little mind to the splendor that had captivated his brother earlier in the evening. He decided to start in the kitchen where the ghost had last appeared and pulled the EMF meter from his pocket.

Sam followed behind and watched his back. He picked at the bandage under his shirts with his free hand. He could feel the end had come loose and in addition to the throbbing pain of the rib, the loose end of bandage hung down and itched. One more level of discomfort to make his night truly miserable he thought.

"You got any idea where your Flapper chick's bones might be?" Dean asked as they retraced their steps through the ballrooms. "Assuming we didn't already sent her happy ass on."

"No idea." Sam straightened with difficulty as he walked. "The article said her lover was assumed to be one of the hotel staff."

"So friggin anywhere then." Dean groaned. "What kind of staff?"

"A cook or a concierge they thought." Sam smirked. "Apparently she had a few lovers on the line. No one was sure."

"Maybe that's why she tried to thump you in the kitchen." Dean reached the hole in the wall and hopped over the rubble. His meter stayed quiet as he lit the long room with his light. "Well she's not here now."

Sam picked his way over the rubble and looked warily around the kitchen. There didn't seem to have been any more damage done since he was there before. Experimentally he blew a heavy breath out, happy when he couldn't see it. Something occurred to him then. "This isn't the only kitchen."

"How many kitchens do they friggin need?" Dean came back from where he'd paced to the other end of the long room.

"There's a second kitchen upstairs for the other two ballrooms." Sam frowned. "Three ballrooms. Crap I can't remember. Doesn't matter." He shook his head. "We should check it out."

Dean shrugged and nodded to the far end. He turned and went back to the door he'd seen with Sam on his heels. In the hall a narrow stair waited, beside it the door of a dumb waiter hung open. Dean shined his flashlight inside, looking up and down and finding no sign of the little food elevator. Sam took out his own flashlight and started up the stairs ahead of him.

"You're walkin like an old man." Dean observed, once more suspicious but Sam turned and gave him a disgusted face.

"Some of us haven't been sleeping that well." Sam told him and it was the truth. That made it all the easier to use a deflection from his injury. He did though regret the darkening of Dean's face, his brother correctly assuming it was because of their Dad's death.

"Don't start." Dean warned, as always quick to try and head him off whether he was actually 'starting' or not.

"I wasn't." Sam huffed in irritation and then sighed in relief when he reached the top of the stairs. Stairs were not fun with a cracked rib.

"Well what am I supposed to think?" Dean said as he came up beside him. "You can't seem to leave it alone. You always gotta poke and prod. At least Bobby knows well enough to leave me be."

Sam burned at the rebuke. "It's not poking and prodding Dean. It's me worrying about you." In his head he added 'and me needing my big brother cause our Dad is gone and I don't know what to do.'

Dean growled. "Thought you said you weren't starting. Come on." He slapped a hand out against Sam's chest and started down the hall. The gasp made him spin and his eyes shot wide as Sam dropped to a knee with a hand clutched to his chest. He raised his shotgun and went back to stand in front of him. The EMF was silent. "Sam, what is it? She here?" Sam shook his head but said nothing. "What's going on?" Dean dropped beside him and tried to get a look at his face. Sam had gone pale, covered in a cold sweat and his eyes were shut tight in what could only be pain.

"Nothing." Sam said finally in a tight voice. "It's nothing. I'm…ok."

"That's crap." Dean checked the hall again before he took Sam's shoulder and tried to push him straight. "What happened?" He listened to Sam rasping short breaths in and out and felt the first thread of guilt wash over him. "Sam?"

"Cracked a rib." Sam told him between clenched teeth. There was no use trying to hide it now. "Earlier, when she threw me. Hit a counter."

"Dammit, Sammy." Dean gentled the hand on his shoulder and kicked himself. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"The job." Sam answered simply. "It's just…a rib. No big deal. I wrapped it."

Dean ran a hand down his chest and felt the bandage under Sam's shirts. He frowned as he felt it far too loose. "Well you did a shit job."

Sam started to chuckle and then stopped, gasping again. "Just…need a minute."

Dean stood and went to the door across the hall. He opened it and took a quick look in then came back. "Ok, come here." He helped Sam back to his feet and led him into the room. It turned out to be a parlor. Most of the furniture was gone but an aging chaise lounge sat against one wall covered in a dusty tarp. Dean whipped it off and pushed Sam until he sat. "Gotta fix this crap wrap job of yours."

Sam nodded and helped pull his shirts up and hold them here out of the way but his right arm wasn't cooperating as well as he wanted it too. "Sorry."

Dean shook his head and started to unwind the loose bandage from around him. "Just sit still." The trickle of guilt had become a flood. He should have looked. When Sam told him earlier in the kitchen that he'd been thrown he should have checked. It was a drill their father had ingrained in them. Never leave a wound to fester. Yet he'd been wrapped up in his own head as he was so much lately and not given it a second thought. It was hardly the first time Sam had tried to hide an injury to do a job, Dean was fond of doing that himself, but it was the first time he hadn't caught on, hadn't found it. This failure on top of his already full plate of perceived failures threatened to tip him over the edge.

"Geez, Sammy." Dean said softly in sympathy as he pulled away the last of the bandage. There was a hideous bruise in purple and blue, only the bandage had been keeping the swelling in check.

Sam fought for a breath. Without the bandage to hold the rib in place he couldn't manage anything more than a shallow gasp. "Wrap…wrap it back up."

Dean glanced up and nodded silently, consumed for a moment with pride for him as he sat quietly and held in the pain he knew he was in. Dean set the bandage and started wrapping it anew, keeping each pass tight and firm, holding back the swelling that would lay Sam low for several days if not a week when they were done here. He tucked in the end of the bandage, making sure it wouldn't loosen itself again and sat back. Sam's arms dropped and he leaned back against the wall taking short, relieved breaths now that he could again.

"Thanks." Sam said hoarsely without opening his eyes. "Gimme a minute. I'll be good."

Dean dropped a hand to Sam's knee in a pat and stood, giving him his minute. His gut reaction was to pack Sam up and get him the hell out; come back on his own and finish it if it still needed finishing. He knew, however, what Sam would say to that plan. He looked out into the hall and still all was silent. He pulled the EMF out of his pocket and studied the silent needle, needing a minute of his own to collect himself.

"Dean." Sam's voice at his elbow startled him.

"Geez, give a guy a warning." Dean glared but took Sam's arm. "You good?"

Sam nodded, even managed a wilted smile. "Kitchen's the next door down I think." He tightened his grip on his shotgun and waited for Dean to decide if they were going to argue about him going on.

Dean sighed and moved out into the hall. "Come on then and…no more up close and personal with the furniture."

Sam snorted and really smiled. That had sounded a bit more like his 'Dean'. "No argument from me. You can get tossed next time."

"I'm smart enough to duck." Dean tossed back and slowed as they reached a set of wide double doors with porthole windows. He peered in through the glass and then pushed one leaf open. The meter began to sing in his hand, still soft but registering something otherworldly. "So much for luck."

Sam followed, taking a last glance down the hall before he let the door swing shut behind them. The upper kitchen was wider than the first and looked quite a bit larger. It was as disheveled as the one downstairs; pots, pans and even pieces of lumber knocked from shelves strewn about the floor. "Man she really let loose in here." On the far wall every knife in the kitchen had been embedded to the hilt in the wall. Dean nodded to it.

"That looks promising." Dean went further into the kitchen and frowned as the EMF began to whine more insistently. "Don't think she wants us in here."

Sam scanned around the room behind them, wary of her appearance and ending up wrapped around another counter. So far she hadn't shown herself but that only made his nerves twitch harder. His flashlight made every dark corner and shadowy shape look like a potential danger and he blinked several times as the light flashed back at him from a piece of chrome.

Dean slowed to a stop as a door on a nearby oven rattled suddenly. "Head's up, Sam."

Sam had heard the sound and renewed his search of the room. "What's she waiting for?"

Dean turned to him with a grin and raised the hand-axe. "Maybe she's waiting for us to put a hole in something."

Sam turned to look at him and cried out. "Dean!" He lunged for his brother and tackled him to the floor as every knife that had been stuck in the far wall pulled free and flew at the back of Dean's head. They hit the floor in a pile and heard the whistle as the lethal projectiles sped over their heads to thunk into the kitchen doors.

"Son of a bitch." Dean growled and grunted under his brother's weight. "Sam?"

"Yeah." Sam said, his teeth gritted. Dean's elbow had driven into his bandaged rib and he wasn't ready to move just then.

"You're crushing me, Gigantor." Dean tried to push up and after a moment Sam slid off his back to his side. "You ok?"

Sam gave a small shake of his head. Breathing was still lower on his list than staying conscious.

"Damn." Dean ran quick hands over him, making sure none of the knives had found their mark. Satisfied he slid an arm under Sam and inched him up until he was sitting against a counter. "Dude, breathe."

"Trying." Sam said softly. He tilted his head to empty wall now filled with holes. "Do it." He reached his left arm out and wrapped his hand around his shotgun, pulling it up. "Got your back."

Dean studied him for only a moment. He trusted Sam in pretty much any condition not to let him down when it counted. He grabbed the hand-axe from the floor and rushed to the far wall. On his third swing he heard the shotgun fire and turned to see Sam jacking another round into the chamber with a determined look.

"Faster is better, Dean." Sam told him in a strained voice. He couldn't put into words how badly he needed to be lying flat now. The fall onto his brother had not done him any favors. The rib may have only been cracked before; it was well and truly broken now. Every shallow breath sent a shard of pain through his chest and black spots to crawl across his vision.

"Workin' on it." Dean turned back and went at the wall with a vengeance. He had a hole and worked to widen it. He shined his light it once and smiled in success when the grinning face of a skull looked up at him.

"Dean!" Sam shouted.

Dean spun and found the silvery form of a beautiful woman behind him. Short hair bobbed along her jaw, framing a delicately boned face. Her short dress hugged every curve and showed off a generous bosom to great advantage. Even as Sam told him to duck he grinned in appreciation. Dean dropped to the floor as Sam fired, the rock salt exploding through the woman above his head. Her snarling face dissipated and Dean lurched back to his feet and the wall. He hacked holes in the plaster at various points, pulling away chunks and then kicked the bottom few feet in.

"Almost there." Dean reached in and pulled out the skeleton. He worried he'd have to search around in the wall for the odd bone but the entire thing had been wrapped in plastic except for the head when she had been put in the wall. "Man whoever killed this chick was twisted." He laid the remains out in a wide space on the floor, dropped the axe and pulled out his knife to cut the plastic apart. "How you doing, Sammy?"

Sam gave him a thumb's up but said nothing. It spurred Dean to work faster. In the light from the flashlights Sam's face was ashen and tight with pain. He split the plastic apart and dove for the bag next to Sam as he felt the temperature beginning to drop in the kitchen again. At the same time his EMF meter lying a few feet from his brother began to whine. He dusted the skeleton with salt and lighter fluid in record time with one in each hand. He dropped the bottles and pulled a lighter from his pocket as she reappeared again, reached for him in a rage.

"Time's up." Dean told her, spun the wheel on the lighter and dropped it onto her bones. They burst ablaze and she vanished in a burst of flame and light. He turned in time to see the shotgun settle on the floor with a thunk as Sam let his head fall back against the cabinet.

"Dude, you're a mess." Dean said wish a small smile. He shoved the cans and axe back into the bag, then his shotgun and Sam's and tossed it over his shoulder. "You move?"

"Do I have to?" Sam asked ruefully. He raised his left arm, keeping his right curled around his chest and the breathless pain there.

Dean lifted him as carefully as he could but still Sam swayed. "I gotcha." Dean half carried him out of the kitchen with the fire burning merrily behind them. Getting him back downstairs involved several stops with Sam panting through the pain. Finally they emerged into the pre-dawn air and the welcome sight of the Impala.

By the time they reached the motel Sam was sitting as straight as he could in his seat with his head down; clearly struggling to breathe. "Okay, Sam. Here we go." Dean pulled him out of the car and got him into the room. "Whoa don't lie down yet." Dean took a firm grip on his shoulder to keep him upright. "Bandage has to come off first."

"It's ok." Sam wanted….needed to lie down. He didn't care.

"No way. You know what happens you sleep like that." Dean took his right arm and rested it on his shoulder before pulling Sam's shirts up. He quickly unwrapped the bandage, tugged the shirts back down and man-handled his jacket off of him before he helped lie back.

"Aw god." Sam groaned as he was finally flat without the press of the bandage tightening his chest. It was still agony but it was a little easier to breathe.

"Be right back." Dean dashed into the bathroom and scooped up the ice bucket. He ran out and down the building to the ice machine, filling the bucket quickly before going back. Sam hadn't moved a muscle. His right leg still sat on the floor. The miserable look on his face stabbed at Dean. He took a few towels from the bathroom and wrapped some of the ice in one then propped it on the right side of Sam's chest over the broken rib.

"Gah!" Sam lurched at the cold and Dean pushed him back.

"Have to get the swelling down or you're going to the hospital." Dean told him firmly. He wasn't sure Sam shouldn't be there already. He studied his little brother's face closely and took some comfort that a little of the color had come back to his face. He settled on the bed next to him and held the makeshift ice pack in place.

"Sorry, Sam." Dean said softly. "Shoulda been paying attention."

Sam shook his head. "Should have told you." He grimaced. "Didn't wanna be a…a burden. Sorry."

Dean stared down at him and sighed. "Dammit." That got him where it hurt. He'd spent his whole life taking care of Sam and had worked hard to make sure the kid never felt like he was a burden and now he'd finally done it to him…in his grief. "You're not a burden, Sammy." He told him after a minute. "You've never been a burden. Dude, you saved my ass tonight."

"Nuh-uh." Sam shook his head again, still with his eyes closed. "Saved your…pretty face."

Dean barked a surprised laugh. "Damn right. Women across the country would have wept."

Sam smirked; it was the closest thing to a laugh he could manage. "Hungry now."

"Sam!" Dean said, exasperated and resisted the urge to give him a mock punch. "Well you're screwed til breakfast." He looked over to the salad container still on the table. "Your salad's seen better days. Shoulda eaten it when I told ya too." He gently tugged part of the blanket out from under Sam's long frame and draped it over his legs. "Get some sleep." Sam gave a short nod, relieved to be able to breathe again and drifted off.

Dean wanted to tell him it wouldn't happen again; that he'd deal with his crap and not screw up again but he couldn't. It would have been a lie and that was the one thing he'd never really been able to do with Sam; lie to him. He knew it would happen again because he was a mess and he couldn't begin to think how to explain it to him. He settled for what he could do right now; take care of Sam. It's what he knew how to do best anyway. After fifteen minutes he took the ice off. Dean slid Sam's right leg up onto the bed under the blanket and checked the bruising again. It had swelled but the ice had helped. Sam however was out for a week.

He went about the room tossing out food containers, sliding the laptop into its bag and then sat on the other bed with a watchful eye on Sam and turned the TV on low. Tomorrow he'd bundle him into his baby and head for Bobby's where he could heal somewhere more like home and with better food. He leaned back, crossed his legs on the bed and for now swallowed the ever-present guilt. He was doing what he was supposed to; take care of Sam.

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_The End._


	11. For Sparkiebunny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Info: For Sparkiebunny - My request is a story with some drowned Sammy and to-the-rescue, panicked Dean. Preferably in a public place...maybe with a good old CPR/AED scene?
> 
> A/N: It's short but I hope powerful. :D

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Dean stood on the prow of the boat and tried to breathe. He had to remember to breath. Sam needed him. He turned around whiplike.

"I SAID STOP THE DAMN BOAT!" Dean roared in a voice that made the Pilot's face pale as he fumbled to cut the engine.

Dean ran to the back of the boat, scanning every inch of the open water with desperate eyes. We never should have come on this hunt, he told himself. "Friggin sea monsters." He muttered angrily, fearfully. It had seemed simple enough; Grab a boat, one of Bobby's friends to drive the damn thing and go fishing for little Nessie. "Do you see him?" Dean called.

"N-no." Gary fumbled out, suddenly worried the guy might take it out on him. The look on Dean's face was nothing short of murderous.

Dean ran to the other side of the little sloop. The seconds ticked away in his head, the minutes that his brother stayed under water. It flashed through his mind again. They had the heavy rods off the back of the boat trolling for it. The locals called it Little Nessie. It had been chewing on the local fisherman. Sam had gone to get them a couple more beers. He'd stood at the side of the boat, shading his eyes. Dean had watched him and had stood himself to see what had Sam's interest when it happened; when the whip like tail erupted from the water and swept Sam over the side. He had watched in horror as Sam bobbed up struggling in its wide mouth. It had pulled Sam under and sped off ahead of the boat. Dean had chased around to the prow of the boat and watched, helpless. Then Sam had come up flailing and gone under again…he had not come back up yet.

"SAM!" Dean screamed it. Each moment with no sight of him was straining his heart in his chest. Any second it would burst out of him and then he saw him. He didn't think. In honesty he didn't care. Dean dove over the side. He cut through the water with strong, sure strokes and his eyes never left the dark spot that he knew was his brother. Dean crashed into him and rolled Sam over. He was boneless, his mouth gaping and his eyes staring.

"Sammy? SAM!" Dean snaked an arm around his head and pulled for the boat. He shouted at Gary as he neared. "GET THE DAMN KIT!" He didn't look to see if Gary followed his order. He pulled Sam's lifeless body to the back of the boat and pushed him up on the diver platform. Dean crawled up after him and dragged him onto the deck. "Hurry up!" He tried not to notice the rubbery feeling of Sam's skin or the blue tint to his lips. "Don't you do this, Sam. Don't you dare." Dean swept his mouth and finding it clear he started compressions on his chest. "I…won't…let you." He counted in his head and bent, forcing air down into Sam's lungs before he jerked upright and tried to make his heart beat again.

"Not…gonna…die…on me, Sammy." Dean bent and breathed for him again. He was lightheaded. He didn't know how many times he had pressed on his still chest, how many times he had breathed into cold lips before Gary was suddenly there sliding in on the other side of Sam and ripping the Emergency Kit apart on the deck. "Bag him. NOW!" Dean ordered.

"God, god." Gary moaned and pulled the Ambu bag out, fitting it over Sam's mouth and started squeezing precious air into him. Dean lunged over Sam and pulled the defibrillator out of the bag. He ripped open the zipper and yanked the adhesive paddles out. "Where? Dammit!" He scrambled through the scattered contents of the kit and finally came up with the scissors. He quickly sliced up Sam's shirt and ripped it apart before he frantically placed the pads atop Sam's sternum and to the side of his heart. He turned it on and rolled the dial up, waiting in terror as the damn thing beeped to let him know it was charging. Finally the tone evened out.

"Clear!" Dean shouted and hit the button. Sam arched up from the deck and dropped back, still lifeless. "Come on, kid. Come on, gimme something."

"He's gone." Gary moaned, tears in his eyes.

"Don't you say that!" Dean said furiously. "Bag him dammit!"

The look on Dean's face dried Gary's tears and he replaced the bag. Dean warned him and shocked Sam again. Again his back arched, his limbs twitched but still his heart didn't catch that all important beat.

"Sam you come back!" Dean yelled. He set the automatic rhythm setting on the defibrillator and let it go, delivering a series of smaller, timed shocks to his heart while Gary continued to breathe for him with the bag. Dean leaned over his little brother and watched his eyes, begging him to come back. "Don't you leave me."

Dean froze. He thought he'd seen a flicker in Sam's eyes. He looked over to the defibrillator and held his breath as the monitor in the pads tripped a beat. "That's it, kid. Come on." Dean leaned back over his face. "You can do this, Sammy. Come on." The monitor tripped again and then again and then Dean was turning it off, pushing Gary's hands out of the way as he gathered Sam up in his arms. Sam gagged and heaved, his eyes finally blinked and water gushed out of him as Dean held him in tight trembling arms.

"That's my boy." Dean said breathlessly and for once didn't give a crap he was crying or that Gary was there to see it. "That's it, Sammy. Breathe. Get a blanket." He barely registered Gary scrambling up off the deck as he held Sam while he gasped and gasped.

"Dean." Sam finally said and it was the sweetest sound Dean had ever heard.

"You're ok. I've got you." Dean held him close, chick flicks be damned and cradled Sam's head as he weakly collapsed into his big brother. Gary returned and there was suddenly a blanket being draped over Sam and another over Dean.

Gary tucked the blankets around them both and walked on wobbly legs back to the wheel. He fired up the engine and turned the boat for the distant shore. Somehow he figured they were done for the day. He looked over his shoulder at them and thought maybe they weren't coming back. He wouldn't blame them.

"Slow it down, Sam." Dean coached as he held Sam against him. He wasn't sure if it was Sam shaking like a leaf or him…or both of them.

"Couldn't breathe." Sam gasped and clamped his hands around Dean's bicep, holding on like a lifeline. "Couldn't get up…to the surface."

"You're ok. Breathe now. Come on. Slow it down." Dean rubbed his back and pulled the blankets more securely around them.

"Monster?" Sam asked.

"Screw the job." Dean said viciously. "Bobby can find someone else for this one."

Sam finally turned his head to look up at him and smirked. "You never…walk away…from a job."

"I do when I have to pull my dead brother out of the water." Dean said softly and this time the tremor came solely from him, rocking his entire body. Sam's hands tightened on his arm and his head dropped into Dean's shoulder.

"No argument…from me." Sam closed his eyes. His lungs burned. His chest burned. He decided he didn't want to look too hard just then at how close he'd come. Dean shaking against him and holding on to him like they were kids again was all the information he needed.

Dean held him close as the boat screamed toward shore and the dock. He glanced out at the ocean and saw a massive tail break the surface and vanish again. This one time he didn't mind walking away. He threaded his fingers in Sam's wet hair; stilled the other hand on his back where he could feel Sam's heart beating and finally took a real breath.

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_The End._


	12. For Kelisem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Info: For Kelisem - For my one shot, I would like early season 6.5 (resouled Sam) with some hurt Dean, and Sam having to take care of him. Dean has a fever from the wound or is delusional from poison in the wound and thinks Sam is still soulless or still completely in hell, and so doesn't expect any help. This gives Sam a glimpse of what Dean went through.
> 
> A/N: Aw look, an excuse for some lovely hurt and comfort and angst. How could I possibly resist! :D

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Sam took two running steps toward the motel room door and then stopped. "Dammit." He spun back to the car and propped the bag he held in his arm to wrench the backseat door open and fumbled around until he found the handles for the other bag. He used his knee to shut the door and bolted for the room again. Little had changed since he'd run out for an emergency trip to the store. He swallowed the now familiar panic as he dropped his bags on the empty bed and went to check his brother.

Dean shivered beneath a pile of blankets on the other bed, he'd managed to shove them half off as he tossed and turned in the fever's grip. His skin was ashen beneath the flush of fever and the angry red gash on his left shoulder mocked Sam for his inability to keep it from becoming infected.

"Hey, Dean." Sam dropped a hand to his brother's head to try and still him. As the antibiotics failed to work he felt the ever increasing worry that it might have been poisoned despite Bobby's assurances at the time there was no lore on Spoorns being venomous. He should have known. There was so little information at all on the little goblin variants. They hadn't known about the claws either.

Sam turned and pulled the heavier of the bags over and took it to the bathroom. He ripped open the bag of ice and dumped it into the sink where he hoped it would stay for a while. He went back quickly and grabbed the box of ziplock baggies and filled several with the ice before going back out.

"Ok, Dean. You're not gonna like this." Sam laid a bag to each side of his neck and Dean gave a violent shudder as Sam put one each under his arms. The fever needed to come down and soon.

"C-came back just to…to screw with me." Dean muttered as his head tossed. His eyes blinked open but Sam knew he wasn't really seeing him.

"Dean." Sam leaned over and ran a towel across his head, mopping up the fever sweat. "You're ok. I'm here."

"Not." Dean's eyes focused on him for a moment. "D-don't." Dean turned slightly away from him and Sam frowned.

"Just calm down, Dean." Sam sighed. It hadn't seemed to so bad at the time when the Spoorn had managed a lucky swipe of its claws over Dean's shoulder. Sam glanced down at his right arm and the bandage covering the bite he'd received. So far he wasn't experiencing any ill effects. He looked down to Dean's face, eyes closed once more and shivered himself. They had killed the Spoorn, burned its remains and headed back to the hotel. By the time they had arrived Dean had been huddled around his shoulder. An hour later the fever had started and now, three hours later Sam was wondering if he'd be dragging his big brother out to the car and the hospital.

His phone rang and Sam dove for it. "Hello?"

'How's he doin', kid?" Bobby's gruff voice was a welcome sound, riddled with worry as it was.

"The same. The fever won't break." Sam stood and took his other bag to the little refrigerator and started putting away the juice. "Did you find anything?"

Bobby sighed. "Yeah, dammit. Wasn't listed under the little bastards' name. I found it under some obscure Goblin lore." Bobby paused. "This is my fault. I'm sorry, Sam."

"No it's not." Sam said firmly. "I looked too you know. It's as much mine as yours if we're dishing out blame."

"The claws are coated in some sort of venom. It aint deadly if the victim survives the first twenty-four hours." Bobby rustled some papers on his desk. "You gotta get him through the fever, Sam. Hospital aint gonna do much for this, maybe even make it worse."

"I will. Bobby?" Sam looked down at his arm again. "What about their bite? Anything on that?"

"What he got bit too?" Bobby asked with a groan. "Ah hell, son I didn't see anything about bite wounds but I'll keep looking."

"Thanks and Bobby, it didn't bite Dean." Sam said ruefully. "Damn thing came out of the damn wall at me." He scrubbed a hand through his overlong hair.

"You even think you're showin' symptoms, Sam you call me." Bobby sounded even more worried. "I'm half tempted to head up there now."

"Bobby, I'm fine." Sam assured him. "I mean it hurts. Damn thing rattled my arm like a dog but I'm fine."

Bobby growled in irritation. "Alright. You take care of your brother and you call me anything changes."

"I will. Thanks Bobby." Sam flipped the phone closed and went back to sit beside Dean. He tugged the blankets back up and tried to swallow the fear. "Eighteen hours. We can do this. You can do this."

Dean floated in a confused world of heat and cold and twisted visions. Sometimes he would open his eyes and see Sam beside and the anguish would swallow him because of course Sam couldn't be there; he was trapped in the Cage being tortured for eternity and Dean had let him do it. He'd let his brother take that jump and he didn't think he'd ever forgive himself. Other times he'd look up and see Sam's face and cringe away because the fear he saw in those eyes didn't belong there. Sam's body was here but everything that made him him had been left behind. The fear was feigned he knew. His Sam wasn't really in those eyes and he'd admit to himself at least that Sam without a soul scared him.

"Dean! Dean, dammit." Sam grabbed his brother's flailing arms and pressed them back to the bed. "It's me, Dean. It's really me." He suffered with the look on Dean's face, knowing he had no idea he was muttering aloud and the things Dean was saying broke his heart. "God Dean. I'm so sorry." Sam said softly. He had been wondering what it had been like for Dean; driving around with his body and mind. Sam had gotten glimpses and what he'd seen he hadn't liked. Now here was more in the way Dean flinched away from his touch, in the devastated look on his face when he mumbled Sam's name.

Dean's struggles weakened and Sam let his arms loose. "Have to change these ice packs, Dean." Sam rose shakily with the partially melted bags in his hands and went to the bathroom. As he emptied and filled them his hands shook with emotion. He'd had no idea how terribly lonely Dean had been even with him there, sort of. He took a deep breath and went back out. Dean had turned, rolling partially to the wall.

"Hey." Sam took his shoulder gently and pulled him to his back again. He kept his voice soft and smiled each time Dean's eyes would flicker open, trying to reassure him. "You're gonna be ok. Bobby says ten more hours and the fever should break." That seemed like an insurmountable amount of time just then but he kept smiling.

"Don' like it…when you f-fake it, Sam." Dean said in a low, pained voice and closed his eyes again. "Told you."

Sam replaced the bags and suffered. "I'm here, Dean. All of me, remember? You made a deal with Death." He stopped one of Dean's trembling hands from reaching up to the new ice bags. "You brought me back…all the way back." And I can't lose you, he added silently. Sam took the bottle from the nightstand and shook out a few aspirin. "Need you to take these again. Come on." Sam slid a hand under Dean's head and lifted it up. It took him a moment to get the pills in Dean's mouth and another to convince him to sip from the water bottle he held up for him. "Rest." Sam laid his head back and sighed, exhausted. He leaned back in the chair he'd set by the bed and closed his eyes for a moment. He just needed a minute.

When Sam opened his eyes he had the feeling more time than a minute had passed. He jerked upright and saw the bed in front of him empty. The blankets were tangled in a heap on the floor. "Dean!" Sam jerked to his feet and ran to the bathroom. Dean sat on the floor leaned against the tub, his head down on the cool porcelain. "Crap." Sam dropped beside him and took his shoulder. "Dean?"

Dean jerked awake at the touch. He stared around the little bathroom in confusion and when he saw Sam he reared back. "No. You're not here." Dean shook the hand from his shoulder and then had to let his head fall to the tub again. "Sammy's…not here."

"Yes I am. Dammit." Sam took his shoulder again and easily evaded Dean's feeble attempts to avoid him. His skin still flamed with heat and felt like dry paper beneath his hands.

"Too hot." Dean mumbled.

"I know." Sam got a grip under his shoulder and around his waist and levered him up with difficulty. "I'm right here, Dean."

Dean shook his head as it hung down. "Not you. Not really you. Can't be." He knew he was hallucinating. He had to be. Dean knew damn well where his brother was and he wondered what was happening to him that he was seeing things this badly. He had to admit it felt real as the gentle hands moved him and laid him back on something soft….a bed? He felt cold settle in against his neck and arms and thought he'd felt that before. It was too cold and yet felt so good against the heat burning inside him. "Not real." Perhaps if he told himself that enough he would wake up and find what he expected; an empty motel room but for him; the bed furthest from the door made and unused. That thought sparked something in his memory. Dean cracked his eyes open and rolled his head. There was the other bed but it wasn't made. It was a jumble of blanket and sheet. That's not right, he thought. Dean looked up and saw blue-green eyes watching him.

"Dean." Sam looked over at the clock. They still had six hours to go. He mentally kicked himself for falling asleep for three hours. His arm itched something fierce but he had more important things to worry about. "Dean, look at me please." He watched the eyes roll slowly up to his face. "I'm right here." Sam hoped Dean wouldn't see the unshed tears in his eyes, holding them back was becoming difficult as Dean raved softly and gave Sam more reason to hate himself and his soulless self for leaving his brother in this much pain.

"Miss you." Dean said suddenly in a whisper, letting his eyes fall closed. "That…soulless dickbag…not my…not my Sammy." He grimaced, brows drawing down in a frown. "Don't leave me this time."

Sam lost the battle and felt the first tear slide down his cheek. He resettled the ice bags, wiped a cool cloth across Dean's face and neck again. He hoped the comfort would get through where his words and face weren't. "I've got you. I am your Sammy." He choked on his name. Once it had irritated him every time Dean called him that. Then he'd realized it was Dean's way of showing affection, of telling him that no matter what Sam would always be his little brother. Dean had used that name few and far between in recent years and Sam had treasured each instance, sometimes very much needing that reassurance that as badly as he had screwed up, his brother still loved him. Now it was an icepick straight to his heart. What had he done to his brother while without his soul?

"Sammy." Dean's voice came softly. "You here?"

"Right here, Dean." Sam laid his hand on Dean's shoulder and squeezed. "I'm not going anywhere. You got me back." He paused and then smiled. "Jerk."

Dean's eyes rushed open and stared. He studied the face above him and tried to blink away the haze across his vision. Were those…was he crying? "Sam?" He asked and dreaded the answer but the grin that spread across this Sam's face was unmistakable and something shifted back to rights inside his chest with an almost audible thump. "Sam." He let his eyes fall closed on the familiar face.

"Hey." Sam knew his voice sounded rough and didn't care. "How are you?"

"Sam." Dean said again and rolled his head closer to the sound of his voice. "Dreaming?"

"No." Sam patted his shoulder and wiped his face down again. "That crappy burning feeling? That's a very real fever from the Spoorn. You're gonna be fine though. Few more hours and you'll start feeling better."

"Spoorn." Dean muttered it and saw a flash of the little creature, all teeth and claws as it had come after him screaming. He noticed the burning in his shoulder finally, the heat seemed to center there. He saw another flash and bolted up. The room spun and he was grateful for the arm that slipped across his chest to hold him and kept him from tumbling forward.

"Geez, Dean. Calm down." Sam held him up so he was sitting. "You need to lie back down."

"Sam." Dean gasped. "Bit you. Gotta check…" He had seen the Spoorn erupt from the wall and latch its mouth around Sam's arm and watched as Sam slammed it into the wall to loosen its grip.

Sam smiled and nodded. "Ok. Lay down. I'm fine." He pushed Dean back, surprised at the effort it took as weak as Dean was. Still he missed the hand that darted out and wrapped around the bandage on his arm. He hissed with pain and worked to pry Dean's fingers loose. "Dean, I'm fine. It wasn't that bad."

Dean shook his head. "See it." He plucked at the edge of the bandage and growled when his hand was removed and put back to the bed.

"You can see it later when your eyes stop crossing." Sam replaced the bags of ice. He untangled the blankets from under him and covered Dean back up. He was shaking with relief. Dean was going to beat this.

"Always…lyin' bout bein' hurt." Dean slurred.

Sam snorted. "Like there's not a precedent for that in our family." He squeezed Dean's shoulder again as he calmed. "I'm fine, Dean. Promise."

Dean's breathing began to even out as he slipped back into fevered dreams. Sam dropped back into his chair with a grateful sigh.

"Bitch."

The word was almost inaudible but Sam caught it and barked a surprised laugh. He reached across the table and picked up his phone to keep his promise and call Bobby now Dean was beginning to show improvement. Sam stayed by the bed while he talked, a hand on Dean's arm. When he slept he simply leaned forward and let his head rest beside Dean's shoulder. He was determined that no matter how the fever dreams came for his big brother, he wouldn't have to wonder if his 'Sam' was there or not ever again.

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_The End._


	13. For Alex Megan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Info: For Alex Megan - This is set after 4.22 or 5.01. The brothers get into an argument and Dean says some really hurtful words to his brother. But when he goes to sleep and dreams of loosing him forever does he realizes the importance of his only family.
> 
> A/N: For your pleasure, a little angsty side trip through Dean's head after the events of 5x01 "Sympathy for the Devil."

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"What the hell, Sam?" Dean glared at his brother as he marched into the bar and found all six feet, four inches of little brother folded over a dirty bar knocking back what looked like whiskey and a line of similar empty glasses beside him. Dean grabbed his shoulder and restrained his temper with great effort. "Get up, Sam."

"Dean!" Sam turned bleary eyes on him and leaned heavily on the arm that held his. "I'ss the poca…apocal…end of the w-world. Haff a drink."

Dean turned his head as the stink of alcohol washed over him. "What the hell is wrong with you? Come on." The last thing he needed was Sam tying one on while the whole damn world went to hell…literally. "Get your ass up." He pulled Sam off the stool, waving off the bartender when he looked over. "He's my brother and you better hope I don't come back here later to ask you how many drinks you gave him." The glare Dean sent the man was enough to have him throwing his hands in the air and backing away as Dean manhandled his brother toward the door, all but holding him up as he weaved to and fro.

"Whassamatter?" Sam asked as they staggered outside. "S'not like…s'not like I don' need a…a drink. I b…broke the world." He chuckled. For some reason the thought was funny though he distantly recalled it being the reason he'd gone to the bar in the first place and he hadn't been laughing then. He took in the wavery image of Dean's face and frowned. "Yer grumpy."

"Shut the hell up, Sam." Dean ground out between his teeth as he steered them both back toward the hotel. "You don't think about anything, do you? You just do this stupid crap and leave everyone else to pick up the damn pieces!" He swallowed hard, trying to stop the flow of anger crawling up his throat. When he'd come out of the shower and found the room empty he'd thrown the towel into the wall. He was having trouble looking at Sam right now without wanting to scream at him. The hastily scrawled note that he'd gone to the bar next door had only driven his blood pressure higher. Not that he wasn't hitting the bottle hard himself lately but Sam already had a bad history with drinking; now he was trading Demon blood for liquor. Same thing in his book.

"Dean. I don'…" Sam scowled and tried to get his tongue to stop sticking to the roof of his mouth. "I just needed to…to…somethin'."

"You just needed to tie one on now. Now, Sam?" Dean didn't realize his grip on Sam's arm had tightened to pain until Sam pushed his hand away and stumbled against a car to hold himself up.

"Ow. Dammit." Sam rubbed at his arm and watched Dean. He saw nothing but anger on his brother's face and it hurt.

"Fine. You wanna get loaded? Get loaded. I don't give a crap." Dean walked a few steps away and came back to stand in front of him and took his shoulders. He gave Sam a hard shake. "End of the world Sam! You get that? You just couldn't listen! To me, or to Bobby and look where it got him! No. You gotta ignore your family and chase after a damn Demon's skirts! What is wrong with you?" He was oblivious to the pained look crawling across Sam's face.

"I didn't mean…" Sam started but Dean angrily cut him off.

"You never mean to, Sam but somehow you did it anyway!" Dean lowered his voice when someone in the room next to theirs stuck their head out the door and then shut it again. He didn't need some well-meaning jackass calling the cops. "No one held a gun to your head, Sam. You drank that crap all on your own. You could have stopped. You could have damn well listened to me!"

"You died." Sam said softly. In his mind it was the only explanation. Dean had died and for a while Sam had done everything to get himself killed except put a gun to his own head. That was when Ruby had come for him and each time he'd thought it was wrong, the whole Dean had left in his life had made him run to the only thing he had left; her.

"So what!" Dean yelled again. His green eyes blazed with rage as he stared at Sam from inches away. "I was gone and boinking some Demon bitch, drinking blood, that's how you honor my memory?" He spun away and then came right back. "I'm glad I came back Sam so I could kick your ass for it. I never thought I could be so disappointed in you. I mean…jesus, Sam. I can't even look at you."

Sam stared numbly at him. He was still so drunk he couldn't see straight but Dean's harsh words had broken through the liquor and his heart felt as though it were breaking. His brother didn't love him anymore. He didn't care and Sam had done that. How could anyone love him ever again after what he'd done. He loosed Lucifer on the world because he wouldn't listen.

Dean looked away from the devastation that was suddenly plain on Sam's face. It didn't choke off the rage but it ended his rant. He took Sam's arm roughly again. "Come on." He pulled Sam unresisting to their room and got him inside. Dean got him to the far bed and pushed until Sam toppled on to it. "Go to sleep."

"Dean." Sam said his brother's name in a hollow voice but Dean didn't even turn to look at him. Sam nodded once and flopped down. He rolled away from his brother and buried his head in the pillow so Dean wouldn't see the tears coursing down his face.

Dean stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door. He spent a while splashing cold water on his face to cool off the temper that eaten away at his control until he could look at himself again. He went back out and Sam was snoring softly. He hadn't taken off his jacket or shoes or even managed to get a blanket over himself. He was just curled into the wall.

"Don't care." Dean said softly. He changed into sweats and a shirt and climbed into his own bed. Part of him still wanted to rage at Sam; to wake him up and just scream at him. He squashed it down and turned off the light before rolling to face away from his little brother; the little brother he now longer knew and let sleep claim him.

Dreams came for him almost as soon as he closed his eyes. At first they were jumbled and moved from image to image incoherently; A vision of Hell, Sam playing with Army men, their father shouting at him, a glimpse of his mother's face. Slowly they coalesced and Dean found himself walking through a darkened forest. There was a sun high overhead but the light seemed to barely filter through the canopy to reach him. He felt a strange feeling of being disconnected as he walked. Ahead, a wrought iron fence peeked between the trees and he headed for it. He knew somehow that that was where he wanted to be. As he cleared the tree line it revealed a small cemetery with three headstones. Dread began to worm its way into him but he ignored and pulled open the little gate.

Dean looked at the first of the grave markers and felt the immediate sorrow; It was his mothers'. There was a small cameo of her face embedded in the stone and he stared at her for a long moment. He knew some people said that after a while they couldn't remember what their loved ones looked like anymore after they died but Dean never forgot his Mom's face…or her smile. He remembered every detail, even the little dimple when she would smirk at him. It hurt that Sam had never known that, would never be able too. Sam would never remember her gentle touch or soft laugh; the feel of her arms holding him safe. Sam had only ever had him; only his brother to give him those things and raise him and keep him safe. He turned sadly from the stone to look at the next and felt his heart skip a beat.

His father's name stared up at him. Dean couldn't help but feel he was being judged as he stood before the stone. In his mind was his father's voice forever drilling into him the one most important lesson he had never had to teach his eldest son; take care of Sammy. Dean would have done that anyway. He'd never really questioned the things his Dad had told him or asked of him. He was Dad. You did what he said. Sam had railed against every order, questioned every command; always wanting all the information before deciding for himself. It had taken him a long time to realize that that's what it had been. Sam hadn't been arguing just to be stubborn all those years. He'd just been more independent of their father's will than Dean and that was Dean's doing. It struck him then that Sam had always looked at him the way Dean had looked at their Dad. He shook his head.

"I don't deserve that." He said softly to his father's grave. "I screwed up, Dad. I broke." The simple admission had him heaving for air in the dim light. He watched the stone as if waiting for condemnation but none came. His father had spent a lot more time in the Pit and yet he had never broken but Dean…He dropped his head and felt a hot tear slide down his cheek. He'd always thought he was stronger than that; that he could take anything and it was humbling to know that even he eventually had his price, his breaking point. "Sorry, Dad."

Dean walked away from the stone and looked to the next. His eyes rose slowly up its pitted surface and he fell to his knees as he read the name. "No." Dean reached trembling fingers out and brushed them over the raised letters that spelled 'Samuel Winchester'. Another tear joined the others to rush down his face even as the now so familiar anger burned up inside him. Sam who might have ended the world if they couldn't fix it. Sam who had drunk Demon blood, screwed a Demon, lied to him and knocked Bobby cold just to follow that bitch and do what she told him to.

"What'd you do now, Sam?" Dean asked the stone. "What'd you do to get dead?" He dropped his hand to his lap and looked at his brother's name. "I loved you, Sam. I just…I couldn't trust you anymore." The words felt like ashes in his mouth. How many times had he lied to Sam when he thought it was for his own good? How many times had he told Sam one thing and done another? "You let the Devil out of his damn Cage."

Then again, Sam could only free the Devil because Dean himself had broken. He had stepped off the rack and taken the deal and in so doing made all of it possible. He realized now it had always been part of the plan. Sam dying so that Dean would make a deal and then Dean dying so that Sam would have no one to turn too…no one but her in his grief. When they couldn't break his father they had moved on to Dean and he'd given them everything they needed.

He wiped angrily at his face, brushing away the wetness. "Guess we pretty much all failed you somehow, huh kid?" Maybe if their mother had been there for him Sam would have been strong enough to turn away from Ruby and gank the bitch. Maybe if their Dad had been there Sam could have stepped away from the demon blood and seen the danger in it. But they hadn't been there. Sam had only had one thing left to hold on to; his big brother.

The big brother he had followed around since he was old enough to walk; idolized and listened to in that same way Dean had listened to their father. Dean hadn't just been his brother, he had been Sam's father figure. He had been the one stone that weighed Sam down to earth and kept him grounded and then….then he had died.

"I left you alone." Dean said in a choked voice. "I'd do it again, Sam cause there was no way….just no way I could keep going if you weren't there. If it was my fault." The words burned as he spoke them because he knew what Sam had felt. He knew Sam had been consumed with guilt that Dean had gone to Hell for him and suffered for forty years for his sake and Sam hadn't been able to stop it. He remembered what he'd felt sitting vigil over Sam's body in that little house. The sense of abject failure that had swallowed him up as he'd touched Sam's cold skin. The certain knowledge that he had sent Bobby away so he could end his own life before he'd thought of the crossroads. It chilled him still.

"That's what you felt wasn't it?" Dean asked the carved name but it didn't answer. He knew, some from Bobby and some from Sam himself that for a while Sam had gone a little mad. His fevered thoughts centered only on saving his big brother. He had tried to make deals, killed Demons, spells and incantations; Sam had exhausted everything before finally accepting there was nothing he could do. Then he had gone away. He'd left Bobby and dropped off the map and Dean got it. He did. Sam was looking for death. It's what Dean had done. It struck him how bereft Sam had to have been and Ruby had swanned in at just the right moment. She had saved him and given him something new to focus on; a better way to kill Lillith or so she convinced him.

"Had you turned around her damn finger, Sam." Dean shook his head and wiped his face again. He was still angry and still having a hard time accepting all the ways Sam had betrayed him and his faith in him but he understood how Sam had gotten where he did. Those days while Sam lay dead Dean had been unable to think. Hell, he'd been barely able to breathe through the tightness that squeezed his chest and the rage every time Bobby had suggested a Hunter's funeral. He had been unable to even consider the thought watching Sam burn. He couldn't do it. Every pitying look from Bobby had only made the self-hate burn hotter until he had been choking on it. It was that that had finally driven him to the crossroads. He couldn't let his little brother down. He couldn't fail him so absolutely.

Dean wouldn't change what he did even now. Having Sam alive and angry with him had been enough. It still was. The day the Devil was freed Dean hadn't been rushing headlong after Sam to stop him, he had been coming to save him; from Ruby, from Lillith and from himself. It had been the driving thought in his head, not to see his brother lying dead before him again. It blew through him that somewhere along the way in the last day or two he had begun to forget that Sam needed him every bit as much as Dean needed him.

He leaned forward and rested his forehead against the cold stone. "I don't know what to do with you, Sammy." More tears fell down his cheeks and he let them. "But you're still my brother. You're all I got left." Dean felt the weight of responsibility and guilt and failure crushing him down. None of that mattered of course. He was gone. Sam was dead. His head rested against the proof of that and the once familiar drowning sense of loss flooded him. With it came the emptiness and the need to not be left behind again; to not be left alone.

"I'm sorry, Sammy." Dean said in a voice clogged with tears. "I don't know what to do anymore."

Dean jerked upright and blinked in confusion. He was in their motel room. He looked around at the walls and reached a hand up, feeling a dampness on his cheek. "A dream. It was a dream. Son of a bitch." He scrubbed his hands through his hair as the last vestiges of the dream left him. He glanced over to Sam's bed and frowned. It was empty. As the anger threatened to rise up again he heard the sound of retching from the bathroom and sighed miserably.

Dean rolled out of bed and pushed the bathroom door open. Sam was hunched over the toilet, back arching as he heaved up some of the epic amount of whiskey he had drunk earlier. Dean shook his head and grabbed a cloth, wetting it in the sink before he sat on the side of the tub beside him.

"Really poisoned yourself good this time, kiddo." Dean laid the cloth over the back of Sam's neck and waited while he retched. A few minutes later it stopped and Sam's head thumped to the rim of the seat in exhaustion. "Okay." Dean took the damp towel and pulled Sam upright. He mopped off his pale face, nose wrinkling at the smell. Sam only watched him. Dean reached across the small room and filled a little cup with water. "Drink and spit, Arthur."

Sam dutifully took the cup and spit it out after swishing it around his mouth. He watched Dean set the cup aside and felt the cloth fall back onto his neck. It rushed up through him again, the anger at himself and his weakness and oh how he hated himself for lying to Dean of all people. Everything Dean had said in the parking lot was right and Sam remembered every word.

"Dean, I'm sorry." Sam gasped and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. God, what did I do?" Sam crumpled, the apologies still streaming drunkenly from him and Dean pulled him back and wrapped an arm around.

Dean just held on, offering what little comfort he could as Sam's tears began to fall and he shook. He couldn't give Sam a whole lot right now but he could do this for him; could give him this moment as he shook with the after effects of too much alcohol because the truth was Sam would never have been in this position in the first place if Dean hadn't broken the first seal. If he could have been as strong as his father this wouldn't have happened. As angry as he was at Sam, and he still was, it was nothing compared to the rage at himself that boiled through him. He had added Bobby to the list of things he hated himself for as it grew ever long but Sam needed to know he didn't hate him.

"We'll figure it out, Sam." Dean said softly and dragged him to his feet. Sam clung to him and Dean let him as he steered him back out into the room and to his bed. Dean sat him down and pulled off his jacket. "Lie the hell down, sasquatch." Dean pushed him slowly over and then tugged off his shoes. It took some drunken limb wrangling but Dean managed to get the blankets out from under him and pulled them up over Sam. Dean sat beside him and watched as Sam's tears slowly trailed off into a restless sleep.

"I'm sorry, Sammy." Dean told him softly. "I can't tell you I'm not angry with you or that I even completely trust you right now but…I'll never hate you Sam. I can't." He patted the blanket on Sam's shoulder and went back to his own bed while Sam started snoring again. He rolled under the blankets and watched Sam's chest rise and fall in the light from the bathroom. He wished he could go back and change it, change everything. He didn't know what to do anymore or how they were ever going to save the world from the madness they'd wrought together but at least they were alive. He closed his eyes and sought a dreamless sleep this time.

Miles and miles away in a little park beside a playground, serene blue eyes smiled out into the night as the belt of a tan coat flapped in the gentle breeze.

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_The End._


	14. For Rachelrox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Info: For Rachlerox - Sam and Dean hunt the monster of the week. During the hunt they get in a fight, Dean leaves for the bar. Sam gets worried next morning when he's not back and finds out Dean was with a woman. Dean leaves with Sam, woman furious because she wants Dean. Boys finish hunt but the woman returns and tries to kill Sam. Realize the woman is a witch. Dean kills her in the end, Sam badly hurt and needs the hospital. At the end everything is fine.
> 
> A/N: This sounds like it belongs in Season 3 to me so there we shall go. ;D

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"We need to keep working on this, Dean." Sam said again as he followed his brother through the sprawling cemetery. It scared him how little Dean seemed to care about his own imminent death and Sam could think of nothing else.

"No, Sam. We don't." Dean rolled his eyes and swallowed the frustration.

"Dean…"

"Sam, enough!" Dean turned a glare to him and started walking again. "We're on a job, remember? Graveyard?" He waved an arm out at the old stones. "Dead people, maybe a Ghoul or three. How about you focus."

"I am focused." Sam retorted but he let it go for the moment.

Dean ground his teeth and headed for the little village of mausoleums toward the back of the cemetery. The sun filtered down through the trees making a lovely day if you weren't looking for flesh eating monsters. He didn't expect to find them during the day but he wanted to see the layout of the place before they came in at night. Still, they both carried shotguns loaded with real rounds, not salt, just in case.

"Lots of places to get ambushed in here." Sam commented as he turned sideways to step between two large, stone mausoleums set beside each other. He looked up to the sloped roofs as he passed and sighed. "We're going to get jumped."

"Not if we find them first." Dean put the toe of his boot against a door that was partly ajar. He pulled out his flashlight and nudged it open. Inside was a single coffin on a pedestal, long covered in vines. The lid had been canted off to the side. "Yahtzee." He shined his light around the small room as he stepped inside and felt Sam come up at his back.

"Someone's definitely been in here." Sam saw drag marks through the dust on the floor.

"Yech. Messy eaters." Dean said as he leaned over to look inside the coffin. Whoever the deceased had been there was little left of him now besides bones riddle with teeth marks and a pile of glistening 'leftovers'.

Sam stepped back outside and studied the quiet setting. "You want to check them all?"

"We'd be here into the night." Dean shook his head and came back out. "I say we give them some bait." He looked meaningfully at Sam with a cockeyed grin.

"Oh awesome plan." Sam rolled his eyes and started back out toward the car. "If I get munched I'm coming back to haunt you."

Dean snorted and followed. He kept his eyes mostly behind them. He had the uncanny feeling that something was watching them.

In the car Sam watched Dean drive and felt the familiar panic steal over him again at the thought of life without his big brother. With it was anger that Dean would do to him what their Dad had done to Dean, whatever the reason.

"Stop it, Sam." Dean said but didn't look over. "I can hear the gears turning in your head."

"Dean, eight months. You've got eight months left. We've gotta come up with something." Sam knew Dean would shut him down again but he had to keep trying. Dean said nothing but Sam saw the anger darkening his face. "I know you don't want to talk about it. You can't keep running from this."

"Hell I can't." Dean growled. He knew Sam wanted to help but they'd had this argument already. He wasn't going to risk screwing up the deal and losing Sam all over again.

"I'm going to find a way." Sam said it with complete confidence that he wouldn't allow his brother to be sucked down into Hell.

"No. You're not." Dean scowled at him again. "You screw with this and that's it. You're dead. You get that?" Dean's voice was rising with the frustration of not being able to convince Sam how precarious his situation was. "They'll stop you dead like that, Sam!" He snapped his fingers in Sam's face. "I'm tired of having this argument with you! Leave it alone! I don't regret it, ok? I'm fine. I just wanna enjoy my time now and not have to go through this angsty crap with you anymore!"

"Angsty crap?" Sam stared at him and felt his own temper rising. "That's what you think this is?"

Dean squealed into the motel parking lot. "Out." He looked over to Sam's surprised face. "I mean it, Sam. I need some alone time. Out."

Sam growled under his breath and wrenched the door open. He climbed out and angrily slammed it shut as Dean peeled back out. Sam watched the Impala speed down the road and saw it turn into the bar five blocks down that Dean had been looking at when they came in.

"Great." Sam went to their room and inside, shut the door and let his head thump back into it. He couldn't understand how Dean wasn't screaming to find a way out of his deal; how he could just so blithely accept eternity in Hell…for Sam. "Dammit." He went to the table and pulled his laptop around as he sat. If he was going to be alone all night then he'd get more research done, maybe call Bobby and see if he'd turned anything but he wasn't going to waste a moment.

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Sam jerked his head up from the nightmare that had been plaguing him. He realized he'd fallen asleep face down on his keyboard. He rubbed a hand over his cheek and felt the impression of the keyboard there. "Great." He looked blearily around and frowned. Dean's bed hadn't been slept in. He rolled his eyes and stumbled into the bathroom.

He came back out toweling off his face and sighed. No doubt Dean was wrapped around someone…or out cold in the front seat of the Impala at the bar. That had been his style lately. Sam pulled on his jacket and opened the door. It was a cool morning but not chilly and the rain clouds overhead had yet to unload. Sam strode down the sidewalk, running through the argument with Dean in his head again. There had to be a way to talk to him about it, he just had yet to find it.

The bar's parking lot was empty of cars as Sam reached it. He tugged on the door and found it locked as well. "Great." Irritation made him stride quickly away and wished Dean had at least called to let him know he hadn't wrapped the car around a pole somewhere. He started back to the motel, detouring for coffee and then rolled his eyes as he reached their room and saw the Impala parked out front. The relief he felt didn't dim the irritation as he went into the room and heard the shower running. He sat on his bed and set the coffee aside as he flopped back onto the pillow. He was exhausted but then, he usually was lately. When he wasn't working a job he was searching for a way to save his brother. It didn't leave a lot of time for sleep in between.

"Mornin' Sammy." Dean said cheerfully as he came out of the bathroom and tossed a towel onto the foot of his bed.

"Lemme guess." Sam said tiredly. "Got drunk. Found a babe and slept over."

"That would imply that there was actual sleeping." Dean smirked and chuckled when Sam groaned. "Man she was gorgeous. Legs up to here!" He pulled on a clean shirt. "Didn't want me to leave either. Took me three tries to get out."

"Dude." Sam rolled to sit up and rubbed his eyes. "Do not need a play by play.

Dean grinned and spent a moment remembering the feel of her and the smell of her perfume, the piercing blue eyes that had seemed to look into him and the feet of blonde hair that had cascaded around him. He shook himself. "Might have to stop in and see her again before go, Dude. Wow. She was some kinda woman."

"Do you even know this one's name?" Sam asked as he took a healthy gulp from his coffee and raised a brow when Dean tried to look insulted.

"Brenna, jackass." Dean said and rolled his eyes. "She was kind of clingy though. Huh." He sat to pull his boots on. "Maybe I won't see her again. Might have to call a hostage negotiator to get me out." A sudden knock on the door stopped them both. "What the hell?" They weren't used to people showing up at their rooms. Anonymity was their best asset most of the time. Dean went to the door and kept one hand at his back on his gun as he opened the door.

"Dean!"

"Uh…Brenna?" Dean's brows rose and then he smiled and shrugged when she jumped and wrapped her arms around his neck, long blonde hair swaying around them.

"I was driving by and I saw that car and I knew it just had to be you!" Brenna practically purred as she took his mouth in a heated kiss. She broke apart with a start at the sound of a throat clearing across the room. She looked over and saw the tallest man she'd ever seen standing beside one of the beds.

"Brenna, this is my brother. Sam, Brenna." Dean gave a lopsided smile to Sam.

"Nice to meet you." Sam said stiffly. "I'll uh…go get breakfast. Dean, remember we have work tonight?"

"Right." Dean nodded and pulled himself apart from Brenna with difficulty. "I'll come with you. Starving." He set her back on her feet and smiled at her. "Look last night was fun and all but uh, we've got work and then we're off to the next town." He sometimes met women who weren't as willing to part as he was. It was something he hated. He didn't like having to sound like the hound he really was these days and went out of his way to pick women he was sure only wanted a good time. Somehow he'd misjudged Brenna and felt bad about it.

"But Dean." Brenna moved in again and eyed Sam as he walked past them out the door. "We have something you and I." She smiled up at him seductively. "I know you felt it."

"Look. We had some fun but that's all it was." Dean said gently. "I'm not the settling down type now come on." He maneuvered her backward out the door. "We gotta go."

"Dean!" Sam called as he opened the passenger door of the Impala.

"Coming! Sorry, hon. Duty calls." Dean dropped a friendly kiss on her forehead and stepped away, going to the car. He got behind the wheel and quickly pulled out. "Told you she was clingy. Wow."

"Not the word I'd use." Sam said as he watched her watching them pull away. "Maybe we should change motels if we end up here for another night."

"Good idea." Dean sighed. She really had been a hell of a good time but he had a sneaking suspicion she wanted a picket fence or something and that couldn't be him. "Bad luck her driving past."

"Yeah." Sam said and thought it more likely she'd followed Dean back. She just gave him that vibe.

Dean glanced over at him and rolled his eyes again. "Dude, you look like crap."

"Cause I'm hungry." Sam retorted. "And someone had to go sucking face instead of finding food."

"Low, Sammy. That's low." Dean chuckled. "You'll feel better when we start taking heads tonight."

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Sam shifted uncomfortably in the Impala's front seat and turned so he was facing his brother as they drove. "Next time you be the bait."

Dean snorted but gave him a concerned glance. "It worked didn't it? How's the shoulder?"

"Hurts." Sam resisted the urge to rub at the bite wound on the back of his right shoulder. A Ghoul on the roof of one of the mausoleums had gotten a lucky drop on him and worried at his shoulder like a dog before Sam had slammed it into the stone wall and knocked him off. There had been five Ghouls in all. They were fueling a merry little fire in the center of the cemetery now.

"We'll clean that up and get movin'." Dean assured him as they pulled in to the Motel parking lot. "I'll go pay up. Can you start packing up the room like that?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. It's not that bad, just irritating." He scowled. "Damn thing couldn't have bit me somewhere else?"

"My brother the undead snack bar." Dean chuckled as they got out and headed for the rental office at the other end of the long building.

"Jerk." Sam muttered and went to the room shaking his head, amused in spite of the pain. He pushed open the door wearily and flicked on the light.

"Shut the door."

Sam froze. Brenna stood inside their room and the look on her face was anything but sweet. He inched his hand toward his back and the gun there. "Brenna? What are you doing in here?"

"I came for Dean. I don't want him to leave." Brenna smiled at him but it was something feral. "Shut…the door." She pulled a small doll from behind her back and held it up for him to see. Sam stared in confusion as she drew a long, silver pin from her hair. "Now, Sam."

"Brenna, Dean's going to be back any minute. Whatever you're doing…" Sam shouted in pain as she drove the pin into the doll's right arm and Sam felt an answering stab in his own. It drove him back against the door, slapping it shut.

"Better." Brenna took a step closer to him. "Dean won't stay with me because of you, Sam. I want him to stay with me."

"If you think…hurting me is gonna make him stay…man are you in for a rude surprise lady." Sam gritted his teeth and clamped his other hand over the now bleeding wound in his right arm.

Brenna laughed softly. "I only need to kiss him one more time and he will be mine." She looked closely at the doll and stabbed the pin into it again, in the leg this time.

Sam gasped as a new pain exploded in his leg and sent him to the floor. Blood began to seep from his left thigh. "Brenna…stop." She was a Witch. That was the only explanation. Trust Dean to tumble a Witch and piss her off.

"You talk too much, Sam." She jabbed the pin into the dolls' stomach and laughed as Sam toppled to the floor and wrapped his arms around the bleeding wound that appeared there. He saw her feet standing at the end of Dean's bed looked up as she knelt over him. "I would have let you go, you know. If you had just left but you had to make him come with you." She scowled darkly at him and added another wound to the doll higher on the chest.

Sam would have shouted again if he could have gotten enough air but the right side of his chest suddenly felt as though it was being crushed. He gasped, his head falling to the floor as he concentrated on simply breathing and silently pleaded for Dean to hurry up. He couldn't get a full breath, could feel the blood pulsing from beneath his hands, his leg, his arm and now his chest. Spots were beginning to color his vision and her voice to become hollow as though from a great distance.

"I promise I'll give your brother a long, long happy life, Sam." Brenna leaned in to get a better look at Sam's now translucent face. She backed a step to avoid the spreading pool of blood. "He'll never be lonely, never want for anything. I will make him happy." She raised the doll and poised the pin over its heart.

"Don't." Sam whispered.

"I'm afraid you'd just get in the way, Sam." Brenna smiled at him with malice in her eyes.

The room door burst inward with a bang to slam against the wall as Dean came in. He stopped the door bouncing back with his foot and aimed his desert eagle at Brenna's head. "Lady did you make a mistake."

"W…Witch." Sam managed from the floor, hoping Dean would hear him.

"Oh that's just awesome." Dean groaned. "You're a friggin Witch? I hate Witches. Now…get the hell away from my brother."

Brenna knelt poised above Sam; the doll and the pin still in her hands. "Dean. Sweetheart." She smiled winningly up at him. "This is all a misunderstanding. You were going to leave me."

"Oh I'm gonna leave you alright. Drop the damn doll." Dean cocked the gun, the click sounding ominous. They had left the curtains parted when they left earlier and Dean had seen her stab the doll and his brother drop like a stone. He was fairly sure what would happen if she drove that needle into the doll's heart, where she had it poised now and pressed lightly into the fabric. "It's your only chance to walk outta here."

Brenna stood and smiled again. "Please. Let's just talk. You and me. Like we did last night." She lowered the doll but didn't relax her hold on the pin against it.

Dean watched her hand tense and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit between her eyes and threw her over backwards. He stepped over Sam and kicked the pin away from her limp hand, took the doll from the other and set it carefully on the bed before he tucked the gun away and went to his brother.

"Sam?" Dean dropped to his knees and rolled Sam over, pulling him up against him. "Hey, buddy. How you doing?"

Sam cracked glazed eyes to look up at him. He opened his mouth to tell Dean he was sorry that he wouldn't be able to save him but there was no air. He let his eyes close and drifted away.

"Sam? Sam! No you don't." Dean grunted under Sam's weight as he lifted him and carried him outside. He leaned him against the car and got the door open, sliding him into the seat. "Hang on, buddy. Just hang on." He dove back into the room and took the doll from the bed before he slammed the door shut and ran back. He couldn't leave it where someone might find it.

"Sam? Stay with me." Dean peeled out of the motel parking lot and braced an arm around Sam as he slid bonelessly toward him. "I've got you." He tried not to think about the amount of blood he had seen beneath Sam on the floor or the blood that was even now running in rivulets over the leather seat, glistening in the streetlights as they passed.

He reached the Hospital in what had to be record time, swerving around a parked ambulance to get as close to the Emergency Room doors as he could. He ran around the car and pulled his brother out. The stillness in Sam's face was making his heart pound as he carried him through the doors that swished open for them.

"Hey! I need help here!" Dean shouted. He watched the chaos begin as Nurses ran for him or away, called for Doctors and in moments Sam was taken from him and laid on a gurney to be wheeled away. He tried to follow and was stopped by a wall of burly security guards outside an operating room. A nurse took his arm and pulled him away, steering him into a waiting area where she left him to suffer alone. Doctors never seemed to think that while they were yelling out things like collapsed lung, diminished breaths and fading pulse the family of the patient was still within earshot. Sam was dying. That's what all the shouted medical jargon meant and why Sam had vanished behind a hive of frenzied activity as they tried to save his life.

Dean slumped into a chair and stared at the grungy tile floor. If Sam died here, today, then everything he was going to suffer in eight months was for nothing. He was going to go to Hell for nothing. He couldn't lose Sam, not like this.

"Not like this." Dean whispered and dropped his head into his hands to wait.

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"Mr. Walsh?"

Dean looked up to see a Nurse standing in the door. It had been hours. He had paced holes in the tile, punched a few dents into the walls when they had stonewalled him on information about Sam and emptied the coffee pot twice of the sludge it churned out. His stomach burned with the bitter brew as he looked up at her from his chair.

"Sam?" He asked, dreading the answer.

"He's alive." The Nurse said quickly to allay his fears. The man's face was drawn and pale with worry. "You can see him now if you want, though he may not be conscious for a while. The Doctor's waiting for you."

"Take me to him." Dean needed to see Sam now, nothing else would allow him to take a breath again. He followed the Nurse as she padded quietly down the hall and left him at a room door. Dean went inside and had to stop for a moment to take in the sight of Sam. He lay on a bed, the head propped up with too many tubes and wires sticking out from his dressing gown for Dean's comfort. His face was pale from blood loss.

"Ah Mr. Walsh." A younger looking man stepped into his line of sight. "I'm Doctor Byers. I operated on your brother." He took Dean's hand where it hung limply at his side and shook it quickly. "I know he looks a little distressing now but I promise, he'll start improving rapidly now."

Dean moved to the bedside and laid a hand on Sam's brow, pushing the hair out of the way. "How is he?"

"Well we repaired the damage to his right lung. It was punctured and collapsed. Also there was some arterial damage in his left thigh and a minor perforation of the colon." Doctor Byers smiled. "He's very strong. He'll be on bed rest for a few weeks but he should be fine. I'll leave you with him unless you have any questions?"

Dean shook his head and ignored the Doctor as he left. He pulled a stool over and sat, resting his hand on Sam's chest. He could feel the bandages, tubes and leads beneath the gown but more importantly he could feel Sam's heart beating.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean leaned in and studied his face. "Time to wake up now." He needed to hear his voice. "Come on, Sam. Wake up and tell me what an idiot I am. Ok?"

It took an hour but Sam finally stirred. Dean was instantly at his side. He squeezed Sam's shoulder so he would know he was there. "Sammy?"

Sam blinked heavy eyes open and saw Dean's blurry face above his. "Dean?" His voice was hoarse, throat dry and he coughed. Instantly there was a straw at his lips and he sucked greedily at the water until it was taken away.

"Easy, big guy." Dean set the cup aside. "Welcome back."

"D'I go somewhere?" Sam asked and groaned as he tried to move. Pain burned dully in his arm, leg and chest and it all came back to him. "Brenna!"

"Hey, hey! I got her. The wicked Witch is toast." Dean pushed Sam back with the hand on his chest. "Got a hell of a mess to clean up back at the motel." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Sam. This is my fault." Dean brushed the hair out of his eyes for him. "You're right, you know."

Sam looked up. He had been on the verge of drifting back to sleep. "I am?"

"I don't wanna go to Hell." Dean said and worked to keep his face calm. "So we'll look. You and me." The happiness and relief on his little brother's face made him want to cry. "We're not gonna do anything that could void the deal, Sam but we'll look."

"Good." Sam raised a weak hand to rest over Dean's hand on his chest and let his eyes close finally. "Can't lose you." He said softly. "Can't."

"I know, Sammy." Dean settled in for a long night and left his hand under Sam's. His no chick flicks rule wavered in the face of how close he'd come to losing Sam a few short hours ago and knowing that in eight months' time there wouldn't be anyone around to do this for him but for now, he was here. He wasn't going anywhere.

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_The End._


	15. For Sammynanci

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Info: For sammynanci - I would like you to explore Sam's power. I would like Sam to use his power of exorcism and something more as when he moved the cupboard. He uses them to save Dean from something or someone. Sam is hurt in the process and Dean feels guilty and protects him. Much fraternal love. Set in 5th season.
> 
> A/N: Set after 5x11 "Sam Interrupted" for no particular reason. Just a good place to put it. I hope you don't mind I abbreviated your prompt Nanci. :D Just to save a little space in the info.

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Dean followed Sam out of the trees and toward the house. They were following a Demon Castiel had put them on to. The Angel had sworn this Demon had information about Lucifer's plan and the location of the two remaining Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Dean figured it was a long shot but ganking a Demon was never a bad thing.

"You sure you saw him go in?" Dean asked softly as they neared the front porch.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Then all the lights went on." He nodded toward the now well-lit house. "He's in there somewhere."

Dean tightened his grip on the demon killing knife. Their plan, what there was of it, was for Sam to play good cop while Dean threatened to gank the asshole…after they wrestled him into a Devil's trap of course.

Sam eased the front door open and went into the large entry hall with Dean behind him. He looked back at his brother to see if he heard the music coming from upstairs. Dean nodded. "Trap on the balcony up there?" Sam whispered and pointed to the top of the wide staircase and balcony that ran across the hall and to the second floor.

"I'll go get our guest." Dean smiled. He went ahead of Sam and they passed swiftly up the stairs.

Sam stopped on the landing and pulled a marker from his pocket, knelt on the wood floor and began hastily drawing a simple Devil's trap as Dean headed for the hall toward the music. He closed the circle and started on the inner design and then shouted in surprise as he was lifted from his feet.

"Dean!" Sam was thrown back into the wall and hung suspended for a moment as the impact crossed his eyes. As he got his breath back and saw his brother turn, eyes wide, he was pulled forward and thrown over the railing to the floor below.

"Sam!" Dean rushed back out onto the small balcony and watched his brother crash into the floor of the entry hall beside the Demon they had come for. "You son of a bitch!"

"Not so fast, meat suit." The Demon grinned.

Dean grunted as something slammed into him from the side and took him to the floor. He rolled and got an arm up in the face of a second demon. He landed his elbow in the young man's face between his black eyes and kicked to free his right arm and the knife.

Sam groaned and rolled to his side. He didn't understand how the fall hadn't killed him. He hurt everywhere and could feel something warm and wet slicking the back of his head.

"Hey there, Sam." The Demon grinned down at him. "Boss says we can't kill you but he didn't say anything about playing." He drove his foot into Sam's ribs, sending him in a rolling slide across the floor.

The air whooshed out of his lungs and left Sam gasping for breath as his head spun. He felt his left shoulder shift wrong and knew it had dislocated when he impacted with the floor. The sounds of a fight filled the hall and Sam looked up to see Dean struggling with a second Demon on the balcony above.

"What do you say, Sam? Little game of Winchester pinball?" The Demon stalked toward him again.

"Don't…have time for this." Sam struggled to his feet, having to use the wall behind him to push himself up. Dean was being overpowered and had the knife as well. Sam raised his hand out in desperation. It was something he hadn't even tried since killing Lillith and he knew he didn't have the strength to kill anything anymore but maybe he could exorcise the Demon.

"What are you doing, Sam?" The Demon stopped, brows drawing together and then he coughed as Sam's fixed gaze stared into his eyes. "Stop. Stop!"

Sam kept going. The power was ripping his head apart as he focused all his energy on the Demon, on the thing inside the poor human it had hijacked. It fought him, he could hear it screaming in his head as the first lick of dark smoke burst from its mouth. The pain was searing and Sam fought to keep his eyes open. Distantly he felt blood begin to pour from his nose and still he pulled while the Demon fought tooth and nail. He gave a last, strong tug with his power and the Demon poured forth in a black cloud to settle on the floor and dissipate while its host tumbled to the floor.

Sam fell hard to his knees and looked up to Dean with bleary eyes. His brother still struggled with the much larger Demon, the knife held high as he fought to free his hand. Sam could see his lip was bleeding, one eye beginning to blacken. He started to raise his hand again even as he worried it would kill him.

From the other side of the balcony a third Demon appeared. "Dean!" Sam tried to call his name, to warn him but his voice wouldn't climb above a whisper. The Demon held a long, curved knife and advanced on Dean's back unseen. "No." Sam panicked. He couldn't exorcise them both. He couldn't run up to help him and wouldn't get there in time even if he could stand. The fear exploded through him in an almost familiar feeling, something he half remembered from a time more than two years ago in a closet when he had watched Dean die in a vision. Power flooded his mind and Sam didn't argue, didn't ask questions; he sent it out and used it to take hold of the chandelier hanging above the hall. He ripped it from its moorings and slammed it down into the second Demon. The creature was crushed into the wall only a few feet from Dean behind a mess of glass and metal.

Dean's head whipped around at the crash and stared in shock. "Holy crap!" The Demon holding him was equally stunned and he used the moment. He jerked his hand free and brought the Demon killing knife down in an arc into his chest. He watched the flashes of red light from inside the host as the Demon died and fell to the floor. "Sam?" He looked down and saw Sam slowly crumpling to the floor. Blood coated the lower half of his face and ran down his chest. Fear stabbed into him. Dean turned to the second Demon. It struggled weakly behind the bulk of the chandelier and yelled out its hate as Dean plunged the knife into its neck and watched it die too.

"Sam!" Dean yelled and ran down the stairs. He slid to a stop on his knees beside his brother and pulled him up into his lap. "Sammy?"

"Had to." Sam said softly, his voice hoarse. "Had to save you, Dean. Sorry."

Dean nodded, saying nothing as he worked out what had happened. Sam had used his Demon born abilities. "Ok. We'll talk about it later. You ok?" He remembered seeing Sam get the occasional nosebleed after exorcising Demons but he didn't remember it being this bad. His shirt was coated in his own blood.

"Shoulder." Sam closed his eyes against the staccato pounding in his head. "Ribs."

"Let's get you the hell out of here." Dean could see his left shoulder sat at an odd angle. They'd deal with injuries when they were safe. "Remind to kick Cass' ass for not warning us that asshole had backup." Sam said nothing, making him worry even more. "Ok, gotta get you up." He pulled Sam's good arm over his shoulders and as gently and slowly as he could he pulled Sam to his feet. His little brother leaned heavily into him, barely conscious. "Good thing we didn't park too far away." The worry ratcheted up another notch when he saw the blood coating the back of Sam's head and the collar of his jacket. "Might be a hospital in your future, kiddo."

"No." Sam was having trouble focusing beyond the buzz in his head but he heard 'hospital' clearly enough. "Don't need it."

"Make a deal with ya." Dean grunted as he lugged his brother down the steps off the front porch. "You start usin' those flamingo legs of yours…I might believe you don't need a hospital."

Sam gave a short, pained nod and managed to get his legs more firmly under him as they staggered back through the trees toward the car. His nose was still dripping blood, his shoulder burning and his head stabbed at him from within and without. He wondered what it had cost him to use the powers he hated so much. "Sorry." He said again, needing Dean to understand he wasn't falling off the wagon again. It had only been desperation.

Dean said nothing. He had feared at first that Sam had drunk from the Demon he killed; all the blood on his face and chest had told a grim story but he'd taken a close look at the body on the floor and it was devoid of injury. He swallowed back the gut reaction to lay into Sam about it. "Keep walking. Almost there." Dean was worried still about the blood and the toll saving him had cost Sam.

Getting Sam in the car had been like pouring warm jello into the seat. He was barely conscious and when Dean could get his eyes open they rolled in his head. He broke a few speed limits back to the Motel and had called Castiel a few times as well but the Angel wasn't answering his phone. Knowing him, he'd forgotten to charge it again.

"Come on, Sammy." Dean pulled him out of the passenger seat and, as before, supported most of his weight inside; Sam managing only the barest help walking. His legs seemed uncoordinated and that scared him. He sat Sam on the edge of the bed and worked at getting his jacket off of him.

"Gotta set that shoulder before you lie down. Just gimme a minute." Dean laid the jacket aside and tugged the flannel off next, tossing that aside as well. He took firm hold of Sam's shoulder. Sam was so out of it he didn't bother with a warning, just tugged expertly and felt the joint pop back into place.

Sam shouted in surprise with the new pain and his eyes flew open. "Crap!"

"Sorry. I gotcha." Dean eased him back to the bed. "Sam." He studied the pale face beneath the blood. "Never seen your shining lay your ass out before. What the hell?"

Sam grimaced and rolled his eyes. "Probably because…because I'm clean. I am, Dean. I swear." He looked pleadingly up at his brother. "I just couldn't watch you die and I couldn't get there in time. I don't even know how I did it. I…"

"Whoa, Sam. It's ok. Calm down." Dean pressed him back to the bed when he rose up. The look on Sam's face was near panic. "I believe you, ok? Just lay still." He went to the bathroom and wet a washcloth, ignoring how his hands shook and went back out.

"Think that Demon…left a bootprint…on my chest." Sam said ruefully as he rubbed a hand over the spot.

"Well let's clean you up so I can see what's yours and what's not." Dean sat beside him and started wiping blood from his face. "Nose still bleeding?"

Sam shook his head slowly and closed his eyes against the piercing light from the lamp. "Think it's stopped."

Dean, his 'Sammy sense' in overdrive, reached across and turned off the light. The light from the bathroom was bright enough for now. "Better?" Sam gave him a nod and he continued cleaning the blood, a disturbing amount of it. "It ever happens again, Sam…we'll find another way, alright?" He got another nod and shook his head. "Scared hell out of me." He pushed Sam's hair off his forehead, frowning at the heat there.

"S'okay." Sam said sleepily. "Not a fever."

"Uh huh." Dean said and didn't believe him. "Come on, sit up. Unless you wanna sleep in your own blood."

Sam cracked his eyes and managed a glance down to his now red, turning to dark brown t-shirt. "Yeck." He let Dean pull him up and help get his shirt off as he focused on breathing around bruised ribs.

"Yeah he got you good." Dean took in the boot shaped bruise low on Sam's chest. A spurt of anger blew through him and he was glad Sam had sent the Demon back to Hell.

"Cass…Cass ever answer?" Sam asked as Dean helped him lie back down.

"Nope. Our Wing man's too busy kicking Angel ass upstairs or something." Dean scowled and then scrubbed a hand over his face. "Get some sleep." Guilt was starting to choke him. Sam had all but cried for him not to be angry with him. 'I did that to him.' Dean thought to himself. Sam honestly thought his brother had so little faith in him that he was near panicked after saving Dean's life and almost losing his own in the process.

Dean rested his hand on Sam's forehead as he drifted into sleep. "I'm sorry, Sammy." He whispered. "I do trust you. I do." He did though he sometimes forgot that but he was trying. He hadn't realized though how badly Sam was questioning himself and Dean's trust in him. For that he felt a complete jerk. He tugged the blanket up over Sam, covering him and went to clean himself up; his brother's blood stained across his hands and shirt from supporting him. He stripped off in the bathroom and decided on a quick shower. At least one of them wouldn't wake up reeking in the morning.

By the time he got out of the shower he felt almost human again. Dean went out toweling off his hair. Sam was as he'd left him, sleeping soundly from the looks of it. He pulled on his sweatpants and was tugging his shirt over his head when Sam's peaceful sleep came to an end. Sam twitched, jerked moaning and sat bolt upright with naked fear on his face.

"No!" Sam shouted. He'd been yelling it for some time he thought but this time it echoed in his own head and he realized he was awake.

"Sam!" Dean grabbed his shoulders, holding him steady. "Sam?"

"Dean." Sam gasped for breath as the terror began to fade and fell forward into him.

Dean held on to him as Sam's head dropped onto his shoulder. "Dude, you're shaking. What the hell was that?" Sam just shook his head against him and a light went off in his head. "It was Lucifer, wasn't it?" Dean asked and wrapped a protective arm across his shoulders. Sam had told him how the Devil stalked his dreams trying to convince him to say 'yes'. "Just a dream, Sammy."

"I know." Sam said softly but knew it wasn't; not really. Sometimes Lucifer was sweet, cajoling. He would spend hours trying to talk Sam into giving in and Sam would wake up feeling as though he hadn't slept in a month. Other times the Devil would scare him with visions of horrors that would come to pass, show him his brother dying in every cruel way imaginable; this had been one of those dreams.

"Take a breath, Sam." Dean spoke calmly and tried to pass that calm to Sam. He knew how bad it sucked having one of those sons of bitches screwing with your head. "It's over." It wasn't of course. Some days he didn't think it ever would be but for tonight it was at least.

"Sorry." Sam said finally and pushed back with an arm across his ribs.

"Just lay back." Dean helped him lay back. He pulled the blanket back up and dropped a hand to Sam's shoulder. "Go back to sleep. He won't be back tonight."

"How can you know that?" Sam replied tiredly. He closed his eyes and rolled toward Dean on the side of the bed without even thinking, subconsciously needing the comfort.

"'cause I said so." Dean said firmly and smirked when Sam looked up at him.

Sam chuckled and felt more of the fear fall away. He closed his eyes again, taking comfort in his knee pressing against his brother's hip. "Can't argue with that."

Dean snorted and stayed where he was. It may have been twenty years since his little brother had curled into him like this but he remembered. Sam used to do it when he woke from nightmares as a child and wouldn't be able to fall back to sleep without Dean on the side of his bed. So he stayed there now at his side, hand on his shoulder and kept the nightmares away at least for a night.

"Night, Sammy."

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_The End._


	16. For JaniceC678

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Info: For JaniceC678 - apart from a good ghost hunt with lots of danger, I'd love a scene where Dean is down, but conscious and the bad guy/monster/whatever is going in for the kill and Sam, of course, leaps in front of him and takes the injury himself instead. (Bad enough to be serious, but not incapacitating for the rest of the story.)Heck maybe one of them could even almost get swept away in the undertow and the other gets to make a heroic save. Maybe injured Sam can still manage to rescue Dean. (Yeah, I'm as Sam girl, but I love your stories because you can keep such a good balance between the guys in terms of injuries and opportunities for heroics.
> 
> A/N: Janice gave me so much awesome background on this location to work with I could set an entire story here…and probably will in the future. Lol So don't be surprised if this short turns up in the middle of a larger fic at some point. :P  
> Set in Season 1…just because I can. Heh heh heh

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"You didn't say anything about having to wade out to this place, Sam." Dean said in a disgusted tone as water washed up and over the little sandbar to drench his boots. The island they were aiming for was some sixty yards further on. Sam had said there was once a resort but Dean couldn't see how anyone would have paid money to friggin swim for it. The sandbar was the only way in and was solidly underwater at high and low tides.

Sam snorted a laugh ahead of him. "Well if we'd gotten here an hour sooner it would have been dry."

"Hey, you try saying no to fresh baked apple pie." Dean smiled remembering.

"Dude, you were drooling at the waitress, not the pie." Sam rolled his eyes when Dean smacked his lips behind him. He looked over his shoulder at his big brother. "It was sad."

"You're just jealous." Dean said and then growled when a wave washed over up to his knees. "Aw come on! We may as well swim for it."

"Bad idea." Sam grinned over his shoulder. "There are rip…" He broke off when he felt the sand beneath his feet shift as a wave curled around his legs up to his knees. He had nothing to hang on to as it pulled him away and toppled him into the water.

"Sam!" Dean watched him fall as if in slow motion. Sam's head vanished beneath the swirling water to the side of the sand bar. Dean saw Sam's head surface for a moment yards away and go under again, arms flailing. "Hang on, Sam!" He picked up his feet and ran the length of the sand bar as fast as the rising waters would let him. The last rays of the sun picked out Sam's dark hair again as he bobbed to the surface and Dean gasped in a breath when he reached the shore before turning and sprinting along the beach after him. "Sammy!"

Sam choked in sea water and fought for the surface and air. The current had a hold of him and pulled him along willy-nilly. He tumbled and his head broke the surface. Sam spat out water and sucked in a much needed breath before he was dragged under again. The crazed current pulled him down and up, teasing him with short gasps of air before shoving him to the bottom and scraping parts of him along rocks. It was becoming harder and harder not to give in to the need to breathe as he flailed and kicked trying to break free.

Sam nearly did inhale a gale of water when he felt hands close on his reaching arm and suddenly his head was pulled above the surface. He coughed and gasped and saw Dean's face before he was turned and pulled with his brother's arm around his chest, holding his head up.

"I gotcha." Dean panted and pulled desperately for the shore. Sam kicked weakly trying to help and Dean could hear him roaring air in and out in his ear. "Almost there." The terror of losing him to the ocean was beginning to fade now he had hold of his brother and could hear him breathing. The bottom finally came up under his feet and he stood, pulling Sam with him. He drew Sam's arm over his shoulders and together they stumbled out of the surf onto the dry sand where he let Sam down and dropped beside him. "You ok?"

"Rip currents." Sam coughed up some more of the ocean and managed a small, exhausted smile. "There are…rip currents around here."

"No kidding." Dean slapped his shoulder. He looked out to the sand bar…or where it had been and sighed. "So, we're officially stuck here for the night."

"Good thing you were carrying the bag." Sam saw it sitting further back on the beach. "Or we'd be hunting this ghost empty handed."

"You stand?" Dean took his arm when he nodded and got him to his feet with a grunt. He studied Sam for a moment and decided he was steady enough. "Next time you wanna take a swim, tell me. I'll find you a pool."

Sam chuckled and followed him up the narrow beach to the bag where Dean shouldered it once more and took out two flashlights. He handed one to Sam and turned toward the heavily forested island. The sun was down now. Fading dusk colored the sky in deepening orange and blue as the night birds woke on the island and sent their calls out on the evening wind.

"What's left of the resort should be…that way." Sam pointed to the North-East and considered the job as they walked. It wasn't unusual for one or two people to go missing on the island a year. Usually they were swept away trying to cross during a tide; stupid kids on a dare and tourists mostly. Lately however, seven people had gone missing and three of them had turned up very, very dead and not from drowning. Their hearts had been burst inside their chests; crushed. There was no sign of outward cause aside from a few bruises and while the police were stumped, Sam had known it was a ghost. They didn't need to leave and damage to crush your heart.

"Hey, pay attention." Dean swatted Sam's shoulder when he stumbled over a root.

"Sorry." Sam said sheepishly. He was exhausted from his near drowning and it was starting to wear on him, not mention the numerous bruises he could feel from being battered against rocks on the bottom. "You know Captain Kidd is supposed to have laid a curse on the island." He smiled when Dean looked at his surprised.

"Nice. Maybe there's a rum stash somewhere." Dean grinned then looked over at him in the light from their flashlights. "Wait. What kind of curse?"

Sam shrugged. "No idea. It's just a rumor."

"Ok, you see an 'x' anywhere, leave it alone." Dean chuckled. "Just to be safe."

"Dude, it's not Treasure Island." Sam rolled his eyes and went wide around the bole of a large tree. His clothes were sodden and weighing him down. He could see Dean swinging his arms and sending water in arcs into the trees from the drenched fabric. They were squelching as they walked. "I think we've lost the element of surprise." He laughed.

"Too bad salt water doesn't work as protection." Dean shook his arms again and dearly wanted dry clothes. At least it wasn't cold. It was a balmy summer evening but the humidity and sodden clothes were beginning to make him sweat.

They reached the site of the old resort in less than a half hour. It was the only site on the island not reclaimed by the trees. The moon had risen and the silvery light caught on the outlines of old foundations laid out in patterns through the tall grass. Dean walked out into the wide open space as Sam went wide beyond him. The bodies had been found at or near the site so the Ghost had to be lurking somewhere nearby. He put his flashlight away and took out his EMF meter, flipping it on. The needle climbed into the red.

"Head's up, Sammy." Dean called and saw his brother nod. Something was close by.

Sam paced carefully across the field, stepping over the bases of long gone walls and buildings. He startled when he realized the night had gone silent. "Dean." Sam looked over and opened his mouth to warn his brother when there was a crash. Dean's mouth opened in an 'o' of surprise as he fell from view with a shout. "Dean!"

Sam sprinted across the ground and slid to a stop near where Dean had vanished. "Dean?" He inched forward and saw a dark hole. He dropped to his stomach and crawled to the edge, shining his flashlight down.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice came softly up.

Sam found him with the light and heaved a breath that it had been a short fall. The hole was no more than six feet deep. "Dean. Are you alright?"

Dean groaned and lifted his head then let it fall back to the mound of earth and rotten wood beneath him. "No." He tried to take a personal inventory and decided nothing was broken except maybe his head. "Okay, yes."

Sam shook his head. "Scared the crap out of me." He muttered. He took hold of the edge and rolled over the side. He was tall enough his head was level with edge when he stood. He knelt beside Dean and started running his hands over his arms and legs.

"Dude." Dean batted his hands away. "Personal space."

Sam smirked. "Nothing broken. You sit up?"

"Maybe?" Dean didn't tell him that Sam was wavering in his vision. He let Sam slide an arm under him and lift him up so he was sitting. "Oh crap." Dean dropped his head forward, closed his eyes and concentrated on not throwing up.

"Yikes." Sam ran his fingers through Dean's hair on the back of his head and found the disturbingly large knot that was making his eyes cross. He held a hand up in front of his brother's face. "How many fingers?"

Dean slapped it away…or tried to. He missed and growled. "Knock it off and get me up."

"Uh huh." Sam pulled his brother slowly and was ready when he turned green. He kept an arm across Dean's chest to keep him from falling as he heaved up the fresh crab they'd had for dinner before coming out here. By the time Dean was reduced to gasping breaths and the occasional dry heave Sam was supporting all of his weight.

"No more crab." Dean panted and fought to get his legs under him. "Ever."

Sam leaned him back against the wall of the hole and took a good look at him. He was pale, sweaty and from the glare in his green eyes, miserable. "Think you can get out of here if I boost you up?"

"I can climb." Dean argued and, in a display of adult behavior, stuck his tongue out at his little brother who grinned at him. "Fine. Yeah. Life me up Gigantor."

Sam chuckled. It wasn't often Dean was in the position of being helpless. "Please don't puke on my head."

"No promises." Dean gave him a lopsided smile and had to close his eyes when Sam turned him toward the wall. The movement made his head spin. "Crap."

"You ready?" Sam asked and became more concerned when all he got was a nod. He bent and wrapped his hands around Dean's left foot, heaved and held him steady while his brother fumbled at getting a hold on the long grasses and pulling. Dean kicked his legs and Sam took a boot in the shoulder with a grunt. "Ow."

"Sorry." Dean dug in and finally rolled his legs up onto the ground. "K…I'm up." He laid on his back and breathed through the new bout of nausea.

Sam rubbed his shoulder. "Don't go anywhere." He saw Dean's shotgun with the moonlight's help and he picked it up, tossing it up beside Dean before climbing out himself. He knelt by Dean's head and squeezed his shoulder. "How you doing?"

"Head feels like one of Gallagher's melons." Dean groaned and pushed himself up with Sam's help. "Get me up, dammit." He couldn't afford to be laid out. They were here on a job and the ghost wasn't going to politely wait while his eggs unscrambled.

Sam nodded and lifted him to his feet where Dean swayed for a moment before steadying. "You good?"

Dean snorted. "No but I'll manage. Where's my gun?"

"Here." Sam bent and put his shotgun in his hands. "Come on. Let's get away from the hole." He shouldered Dean's bag as well. It must have dropped to the ground before Dean went down to lie beside the hole. He picked up his own shotgun and had to hunt for his flashlight.

"Islands suck, dude." Dean grumbled and started away, stumbling a little as his head made the ground move beneath him. He knew he was weaving and couldn't stop it.

"Hey, wait up there dizzy-D." Sam called, chuckling at Dean's wandering progress through the field.

Dean flipped him a finger for the nickname and then stopped. "Is that in my head?" He heard an electronic whine and looked back at his brother. Sam was staring down into the hole.

"Oh crap." Sam breathed. Dean's EMF meter was still down the hole and now screaming loudly as the needle no doubt buried itself. "We've got company." He heard a strange rattling sound as he turned to find Dean. "What the hell is that?"

Dean raised his shotgun, bracing it with both hands and looked around the clearing. He couldn't see anything but he could hear the new sound. "No idea." He had to splay his legs to stay standing in one place. His head wanted to send him spinning.

Sam started toward him and froze as the rattling stopped. Off to Dean's right a cloud of…something rose into the air. Sam jerked the flashlight to it and with a sickening feeling realized what they were; rusted nails. The ghost had pulled them up from the foundations. As he watched they turned to aim at his weaving brother. "Dean!" Sam broke into a run.

Dean stared at the cloud of nails unable to make sense of them. They turned to point at him and he stumbled back a step. "Not good."

Sam plowed into Dean as the nails were released to speed toward him. He tackled him to the ground and cried out in pain as fire lit up along his left leg. They hit the ground and rolled into the grasses in a heap.

"Shit." Dean gasped. "Sam?"

"Yeah." Sam groaned and rolled off of him then just lay there gritting his teeth.

Dean sat up slowly and pulled the flashlight from Sam's hand. He played it down along his body and hissed as he saw the row of old nails protruding in a line down Sam's left leg like a porcupine. "Shit, Sammy."

"Ok." Sam said in a tight voice. "That…hurts." He was afraid to move his leg. Even the barest twitch was sending agony through him.

"Just…don't move yet." Dean put a hand on his shoulder for a moment and then moved to get a better look at his leg. His splitting headache was forgotten in concern. He checked the nails as carefully as he could but still Sam gasped yet somehow managed not to move. "Ok. Don't think they hit anything vital but uh…they gotta come out kiddo." Dean moved back to his head and Sam nodded. "Can't get you outta here like that."

"Stuck here…til dawn." Sam reminded him.

"I know." Dean pulled the bag from Sam's arm and rifled through it for the first aid kit. It was only bare essentials. He'd have given anything for the big kit in the Impala's trunk just then; the painkillers and the bottle of whiskey…purely medicinal of course. "You want something to bite down on?"

Sam felt through the grass and came up with a stick that would do the job. "Go on. Get them out." He put the stick in his teeth and dropped his head back. This was going to suck.

Dean patted his arm and bent to his grizzly task. He counted eleven of the damn things. There was no way Sam was getting out of a trip to a clinic after this one. He'd need every shot they had to cancel out whatever plague was on the ancient nails. He took the scissors from the kit first and cut up the leg of Sam's jeans until he reached the first nail. There he stopped and wedged the end of the nail into the crux of the scissors like a pair of pliers. "First one, Sam. One. Two. Three." He pulled the nail out with a little sickening squelch. Sam yelled around the stick and clamped a hand onto Dean's leg. "Ok. Ok." Dean leaned over him. Sam was panting for air, eyes closed tight and his face pale in the moonlight. He pushed the dark hair off his forehead and left his hand there until Sam blinked up at him.

Sam spit the stick out. "Sorry." The pain had nearly put him out. He didn't want to know how many more nails Dean had to remove. "You ok?"

Dean shook his head with a small laugh. "Better than you." That was Sam; always more worried about his brother than himself no matter what shape he was in. Dean took the stick and put it back in Sam's mouth. "Here we go." Sam nodded and Dean went back to his leg. He glanced up around the empty clearing but saw no sign of the ghost and the EMF meter was silent in its hole for the moment. The ghost must have spent its energy with the nails for now at least. He cut the denim up to the next nail and repeated the process.

By the time he was done, Dean was sweating almost as badly as Sam who had passed out around nail seven. There were two nails still in his leg just above his knee. They had gone into the bone and he was afraid to wiggle them out and fracture it. They'd have to stay in until they reached civilization. He packed a careful bandage around them to try and secure them and had pretty well mummified Sam's legs with bandages for the holes he'd made removing the other nails. He took a moment and rested his head in his hands, trying to will the pounding headache to back off. He didn't have time for a damn concussion now. When it was bearable again, he pulled Sam's head and shoulders into his lap and tapped his cheeks.

"Come on, Sammy. Rise and shine." Dean cradled his head and smiled as weary blue-green eyes cracked open.

"Why's it feel like...still nails in my leg." Sam raised his head a little and his brows rose. "Dude…missed a couple."

"Didn't miss 'em, Sam." Dean pulled him up a little so he was sitting against his shoulder. "Had to leave them in. They're in the bone." Sam blanched. "It'll be fine. We'll get you out of here and they can pop 'em out at the hospital."

"What about the ghost?" Sam looked around them. "Can't just leave him here. He'll keep killing."

"We'll come back when you're all patched up and my head's not spinning like a damn top." Dean used one arm to pack everything back into the bag and pull it onto his shoulder. He grabbed Sam's shotgun and put in his lap near his hands. "Take this." While Sam wrapped weak hands around the stock of the gun, Dean grabbed his own and sighed. "Ok. Time to get vertical. Deep breath."

Sam nodded. How he managed not to pass out again as Dean levered him to his feet was a mystery to him. The agony as his knee shifted and the feel of the nails in the bone above it were a new level of misery. It was several moments before he realized Dean was speaking to him and that he had both hands fisted in Dean's jacket; his head on his shoulder.

"Sammy? You with me?" Dean grunted under the weight of keeping him standing and toyed with the idea of just laying him down and pouring a damn salt circle around him til morning.

"Ok. I'm ok." Sam managed finally and got his head up. "That hurt…like a bitch."

Dean chuckled. "If you're cussing it must have. Come on." Dean pulled him into a slow, ungainly walk. He decided they'd head for the sandbar and find a decent place to hole up for the night. The job could wait a day or three. It took them twice as long to cross the open ground back to the trees with Sam having to stagger unsteadily with Dean's support. As they neared the trees, Sam wobbled to a halt.

"Wait. Wait." Sam stopped and leaned heavily into his brother.

"Dude, what? We need to find somewhere safe to stash you til morning. Come on." Dean pulled on him but Sam stayed rooted.

"No, wait." Sam shook his head and looked back into the old resort clearing. "The ghost." He looked back around to Dean. "All those people he killed. He never injured them."

"He killed them, Sam. I'd call that injured." Dean tried to get him moving again but Sam stubbornly stayed put.

"No. No, I mean, there were never marks of violence on the bodies." He stared up at dean, willing him to understand. "Why now? Why you? What's different?"

"How the hell should I know?" Dean rolled his eyes and then stopped. He looked out into the empty field and back to Sam. "He did get awful pissed." He said slowly. "Like…you stepped on my grave pissed." His eyes widened. "Son of a bitch."

"The hole. His bones have to be in there." Sam nodded.

"Ah hell." Dean dropped his head and then turned them back toward the haphazard field. "Ok. We can come back in the morning." He said but he wasn't fond of that plan.

"No." Sam shook his head. "He could come after us at any time." He wiped a hand over his face. "Gotta do it now."

"I don't like it." Dean growled but he started them moving back toward the hole. As they neared the last tree before the clearing Dean stopped. "You're staying here."

"What? No!" Sam argued but could offer little resistance as Dean lowered him down until he was sitting with his back to the tree.

"Look, this is close enough. Casper shows his ugly face you can blast him while I find his bones." Dean stared down the rebellious look on Sam's face. "You're out there with me all I'm gonna do is worry about you." It was low, he knew, but it would also get through. It did.

Sam sighed miserably. "Fine. I'll stay here." He felt worse than useless.

"Hey. If it weren't for you I'd be the pincushion." Dean smiled and gave his shoulder a squeeze before standing. "Watch my back."

"Always." Sam said, determined and got his shotgun ready. He didn't like it; absolutely did not like being left behind while Dean went out there alone but Dean was right. In his condition he'd be a liability. He could barely stand let alone anything else. The burning sensation in his leg from the still embedded nails was sickening. At least sitting down it lessened slightly.

Dean jogged across the field back to the hole and stopped at the edge. He shined the flashlight down, dropped the bag at the edge and sighed. "Great." The bones were likely buried under the soil and rotted wood he'd fallen through. He looked back to Sam and gave a short wave to him before he sat and dropped inside. The moonlight shone down to him so he put the flashlight away, leaned his shotgun up against the wall and started digging.

As he cleared bits of broken wood and tossed them up and out he cringed at the number of rusty old nails he could have landed on. He'd gotten very lucky he realized. The soil and grass that had come in with him had protected him and softened an otherwise disastrous landing. He kept one longer piece of wood and used it to help shovel dirt and debris to the sides. His EMF meter made itself know, a growing whine led him to it off to one side. He grabbed it and dove for his shotgun.

"Sam! Incoming!" Dean shouted and heard the muffled response. He started combing through the shrinking pile of earth one handed with the board, unwilling to set his gun aside with an angry spirit nearby. He jumped at the sound of a shotgun blast and leaped to the side of the hole, half climbing out. "Sam?"

"Keep going!" Sam yelled. He was propped up against his tree and reloading the shotgun. He watched Dean nod and drop out of sight again. The ghost had come toward Dean's position like a screaming cloud and Sam had only just had time to fire and dissipate it before it reached his brother. He looked around the ground and saw a stout stick a few feet away. He needed to get closer.

"Ok. I can do this." Sam lowered himself slowly to the ground. He groaned and fought the need to pass out when he jarred his leg. He checked the field again, seeing it still empty and leaned out on the ground, fingers reaching for the limb.

Dean dug in earnest. He'd found a leg bone and worked to uncover the rest of the skeleton without dislodging the bones themselves. He needed to be sure he got them all. He set the shotgun down and used both hands to move the loose earth as more of the dead man's body was revealed.

"Got you now, jackass." Dean growled. He froze as the breath from his words blew out in a cold vapor as the EMF beside him began to scream. "Oh crap." He looked up and reared back. The ghost appeared not a foot away and darted one, pale hand toward his throat. Dean felt icy fingers slide around his neck and then into his neck, squeezing. He waved his arm wildly over the ground behind him trying to find the shotgun. As his fingers touched the stock, the ghost flicked his other hand and Dean felt it ripped away. Wild, mad eyes stared down at his. Rage twisted a once handsome mouth into a rictus grin and Dean fought for breath as the face neared his own.

The sudden blast of a shotgun startled him at the same moment rock salt rained across the top of his head and into the spirit. The dead man screamed in anger as he vanished and Dean fell forward gasping grateful breaths for a moment.

"Dean." Sam's pained voice made him suck it up. Dean straightened and looked over his shoulder. Sam was balanced precariously on a tree limb under his left arm while he aimed the shotgun with the other and looked about ready to fall over.

"Thanks." Dean rubbed a hand over his throat and grimaced. "Nice timing."

Sam nodded and groaned. He couldn't hold himself up any longer and started the slow slide to the ground. "M'okay." He said as Dean's worried face popped up to look at him. He waved his hand. "Hurry up."

"Almost done." Dean assured him and dropped back down. He quickly cleared the rest of the dirt away and stood over the skeleton bared to the moonlight. He resisted the urge to kick the skull, picked up his shotgun and the EMF meter and scrambled back topside. "You ok?" He watched Sam nod and knew he wasn't. Dean pulled the salt canister and lighter fluid from the bag and started pouring them into the hole over the bones with gusto.

"Time to fry, Casper." Dean squeezed a little more fluid than he needed and then pulled his zippo out of his pocket and stood.

"Dean? Flame next in case you forgot." Sam said and wondered why he didn't just like the thing up.

"Patience, tiger." Dean heard the meter on the ground beside him begin to whine and grinned. A moment later the ghost returned, standing across the hole. He spun the wheel on the lighter and as the flame lit, tossed it down into the hole where the fluid caught instantly. Flames roared up into the night and the spirit screamed its rage and fear as it was consumed and vanished forever. "Good riddance." He had wanted to see it happen.

Sam shook his head, amused. "Remind me…never to piss you off." He laid back with a thump, spent.

Dean snorted. "Too late and you're still alive." He packed everything hastily back into the bag by the waning firelight and then knelt beside his brother. "You look like hell." He smirked as Sam rolled his eyes. "Come on. Back to the sand bar."

"I can stay here." Sam was exhausted. The walk from the tree across the field to the hole had taken everything he had left. He'd been unable to shake the feeling that he was too far away and Dean was going to need him so he'd gritted his teeth and hobbled the distance through the shooting agony in his leg.

"Nope." Dean slid an arm under his shoulders and lifted Sam up, then pulled one of his arms across his shoulders. "Clouds coming in from the East. Unless you wanna sit out here in the rain."

"Balls." Sam muttered, making his brother laugh.

"I'm tellin' Bobby next time we see him." Dean grinned and pulled Sam to his feet, well foot. "I could always carry you."

"Just gimme the damn stick." Sam said, his pride piqued. "I can walk."

"Yeah. Yeah." Dean chuckled but bent and grabbed the tree limb, handing it to him. He waited for Sam to get it situated and then started them at a slow hobble back toward the beach. Despite his protest that he could walk, Dean was supporting most of his weight as they navigated the forest back to the beach. "Gotta stop feeding you, sasquatch." He hitched Sam's arm higher on his shoulders.

"Good thing…the ghost didn't go for your heart." Sam said as though he'd been pondering that for a while. "Like the others."

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Dean glanced down and saw his eyes closed. They were almost in sight of the beach. He could hear the surf and a gentle rain had started falling; the trees above blocking most of it. Dean lowered Sam carefully to lean against a large tree and sat beside him, shoulder to shoulder to wait for the morning. "Trust me. Wasn't any picnic with him trying to choke me out." He rubbed his neck in memory.

Sam smirked and let his head roll to rest on his brother's shoulder. "Little tighter and…would'a been quiet for a few days." He gave a sleepy chuckle and didn't react when Dean lightly slapped the side of his head.

"Watch it, Sammy." Dean rolled his eyes but moved to get an arm around him. "I can still take those last two nails out myself."

"Would not." Sam was drifting, heading toward exhausted sleep and smiled again. "Probably got hot nurses."

Dean laughed. "Go to sleep, pin-cushion." He got as comfortable as he could with Sam's weight against him and settled to listen to the surf and rain, shotgun at his side, through the night.

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_The End._


	17. For Jeanny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Info: For Jeanny - I'd love some sick RebelTeen!Sam where John and Dean only see the rebel not the sick until Sam collapses, and then comes the guilt and comfort :)
> 
> A/N: Sam 15/Dean 19 sounds good. :P

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"Sam! Stop lagging in the back!" John Winchester's drill Sargent voice bellowed as he looked over his shoulder. Dean was dropping back to let his little brother catch up. Sam had been dragging his feet for days and John knew it was his little rebellion. He didn't want to change schools when the hunt was finished. John had put his foot down. The job was more important than Sam being able to have the same teachers. He'd learn at whatever school he was at. Having Dean out of school finally was a huge relief for him.

John growled in frustration and jogged back to his sons. "What's the hold up, Sam?"

Sam looked up at him with long suffering eyes. "Dad, I'm tired. Sorry."

"You're tired." John rolled his eyes. Dean hadn't given him this much trouble at fifteen. "No, you're pissed at me that I won't let you finish out the year. Sammy, this is the job. You know that." He fixed his youngest with a stern glare. "Now stop being childish and finish the run."

"Dad." Sam started but his father turned and picked up the pace again.

"Come on, Sammy." Dean slapped his brother's shoulder. "I know it sucks but pissin' Dad off isn't gonna change it."

"Boys!" John's shout got them both moving again.

"Dean." Sam stared up at him for a moment, crushed that his big brother would take his father's side. "But Dean, I really am tired."

"Let's just get the run finished, ok kiddo?" Dean gave him a push to catch up with their Dad. It killed him when Sam and Dad fought and these days that was pretty much all they did; butt heads over everything.

Sam groaned and fought to pick up his pace. He was tired. He'd also thrown up a few times in the last day. He thought maybe it was something he'd eaten; when Dean cooked you never really knew if you end up paying for it not. That made him smirk but it quickly faded as the running aggravated the stitch in his side that would not go away.

"Come on, Sam." Dean gave him another nudge to hurry him. Their Dad was running backwards and glaring at them.

An hour later Sam almost moaned in relief as they returned to the little house they were living in. All he wanted was to fall into bed and not move for a week. He headed for the front door and groaned when his father's hand landed on his shoulder. "Ten minutes, Sam. This shifter's not gonna gank itself."

"Dad…could I just…" Sam looked up and saw the instant irritation on his father's face but he plowed ahead anyway. "I'm really tired. Dad please?"

"Dammit, Sam." John took a breath to get his temper under control. "You can study or whatever when we get back. This is more important. Ten minutes." John took his shoulder and turned him toward the house. "Don't make me come find you." Sam dropped his head and went inside.

"Dad, maybe you're being a little rough on him." Dean watched his little brother mope into the house. "He does look a little beat."

"He'll get over it, Dean." John rolled his eyes skyward for patience. "We can't be having this problem every time we have to move on. I know it sucks. I do." He gave Dean a small, sympathetic smile. "But it is how it is and the sooner he accepts that the happier he'll be."

Dean nodded but didn't agree. He wasn't sure Sam would accept the necessity for their wandering lifestyle. He just wanted more. Sam wanted normal and that was the one thing it seemed a Winchester was never going to have.

Sam wiped his mouth and flushed the toilet. Dean always told him throwing up should make you feel better but it made him feel worse. He checked his watch and groaned. He only had a few minutes left before his Dad would come looking for him. Sam pulled himself up to the sink and hastily rinsed the bad taste from his mouth and then swallowed a few mouthfuls of cool water before looking at himself. He was pale, he knew and felt indefinably worse than he had even an hour ago.

"Sammy!"

His father's voice bellowed from outside. Sam shook his head and headed for the stairs. There was no point arguing. His Dad was going to make him do this hunt no matter what. He grabbed his jacket and headed back outside. His Dad was already in his truck and Dean waited beside the Impala, waving impatiently at him.

"Ok, ok. I'm coming." Sam muttered. He got into the passenger seat and studiously did not look up to see the glare he was sure was on his father's face. He hunched in the seat and let his head rest on the window as Dean slid behind the wheel and pulled out to follow their Dad.

"Dude, are you trying to piss him off worse?" Dean asked with a sidelong look.

"He said ten minutes." Sam replied listlessly. "I took it." He didn't want to argue with Dean…or his Dad or go on the hunt. He just wanted to lie down and not feel sick to his stomach and he really wanted his side to stop aching from the run.

Dean kept his comments to himself. He recognized the look on Sam's face and knew talking to him right now wouldn't accomplish anything except to add himself to his brother's shit list. He hoped once the job was over he could talk Sam down and his father too. It had actually been Sam's research that had located the nest of the Shifter they'd been hunting for weeks. That had to be worth some points with Dad. He glanced over at Sam and sighed. He really did wish the kid could have normal.

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The sewer tunnels were like a maze. John kept a constant eye to the compass, trying to keep them on the right course. He knew they were close to the Shifter's lair. They had already found a couple disgusting piles of its cast-offs; skin, teeth and shreds of clothing.

"Dad?" Dean jogged up beside him. "You hear that?"

John paused and tilted his head, listening to the sounds of the sewer. There was a strange rumbling noise in the distance. "What the hell is that?" He couldn't tell where it was coming from in the nest of tunnels, the sound bounced from wall to wall.

Sam leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath. It must have been all the walking through the tunnels that was making his side ache worse. He listened as well and frowned. "Sounds like water." He thought back to his study of the blue prints of the tunnel system. His thoughts were sluggish and he wanted to throw up again but he swallowed it back and then his eyes widened. "Oh no."

"What, Sam?" John looked back to him, recognizing the sudden fear in his voice.

"These tunnels connect to one of the sluices from the Dam." Sam looked up at his Dad and Dean. "But…I thought they were closed off!"

The rumbling sound grew louder, becoming a roar and the blood drained from John's face. "Oh shit."

"Dad?" Dean asked and went back to grab hold of Sam's shoulder.

"Run!" John shouted and sprinted toward them, grabbing each by the shoulder he turned them. There was nothing else he could think to do except hope to outrun whatever was coming at them. They ran and when Sam began to lag behind John and Dean each took one of his arms to help his shorter legs keep up. It was to no avail.

Water surged into the tunnel behind them. No sooner had they looked back and seen it than it was on top of them and sweeping them down the tunnel. Dean fought to keep his grip on Sam but the water crashed them apart. He slipped under the dark waters in a panic.

"Sam!" John screamed. "Dean!" He was pulled under and kicked to the surface, looking desperately for his boys. He saw a head further down the tunnel and tried to swim for him, not knowing which son it was but needing to reach him. He was so focused on the bobbing head he didn't see the emergency light coming and grunted in surprise when it crashed into the side of his head and took the world away from him.

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"Dad."

John felt himself shaken.

"Dad, wake up!"

The voice was frantic with worry and it spurred him to open his eyes. "Unh…Dean?"

"Dad!" Dean gasped in relief and smiled. "You gotta get up. Please."

"Wha…" John pushed up on his elbows, grateful for the arm that slid behind his back and looked around. "Sammy?"

Dean shook his head miserably. "I couldn't hold on to him. I swear I tried but…I lost him, Dad."

"Take a breath, Dean." John quashed the panic that tore through him. Dean needed him to be in control now. Sam needed him. "Panic won't help him. Get me up." He raised a hand to his head and felt a lump beneath his hair. That explained the pounding in his head. They were both dripping the foul sewer water as they stood and he saw they were in some confluence of tunnels; an emergency light in the ceiling lending a dull glow to the small chamber.

"We gotta find him." Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair and flicked water away. "He could be…"

"He'll be fine." John said firmly. "We'll find him. Come on."

"Where do we even start?" Dean looked at the five tunnels they had to choose from. "Sam!" He shouted. The sound echoed loudly and his father clamped a hand on his shoulder.

"Calm, Dean." He told his son. Dean who could stay calm and grin in the face of a Werewolf but the thought of losing his little brother was enough to break him. "Do you know which…" John broke off as a new sound came into the small room.

"Dad." Dean took a step toward the three tunnels across from them. "Was that…"

"Sam." John ran to them and stopped. "Sammy?" He yelled and waited. The small voice came again and he jerked to his right into the tunnel it had come from. Dean pushed past him and ran.

"Hang on, Sammy!" Dean called, ignoring the echo. His brother's voice called again. He followed the sound with his Dad on his heels. Dean skidded around a corner into another confluence chamber and almost went to his knees in relief when he saw him. "Sammy." Dean slid to a stop and dropped beside him. Sam lay on the floor and raised his head to smile weakly up at him.

"Dean." Sam reached up to him and smiled again as John landed on his other side.

"Hey, tiger." John pulled Sam up and wrapped an arm around his thin shoulders. "Scared us half to death."

"You ok?" Dean felt along his little brothers arms and legs. "Sammy? Anything broken?"

Sam shook his head. "Don't think so."

"Ok, let's get out of here." John stood and looked in surprise when Sam reached up to him for help.

Dean too looked surprised as he stood. "Sammy?" Since he'd been old enough to walk Sam had always reached for his big brother first; always. Sleepy, sick, injured, concussed; Sam always went for Dean first like a security blanket. "Dad." Dean said and dread dropped into the pit of his stomach. "Dad get away from him."

John stared down into the blue-green eyes of his youngest son and listened his eldest and the fear in his voice. When it came Sam, he trusted Dean. "No." He breathed. Instantly the silver knife at his back was in his hand.

"Where's my brother you son of a bitch." Dean demanded and had his own knife out.

"What? Dean. It's me!" Not-Sam looked at him with a pleading look. He held out his hand. "Please, Dean."

Dean steeled himself and in a lightning fast move swiped the edge of the blade along the Shifter's hand. The skin smoked and not-Sam cried out in pain, falling back. "Where is my brother?"

John drew his gun with his other hand and aimed it at the heart of the thing wearing his son's face. "Pretty soon we're gonna stop asking."

The shifter hunched over its wounded hand and glared up at John. "What do you care, human?" It hissed at him and backed to the wall. "Kill me and you'll never find him."

"No one said you get dead." Dean said in a warning voice and advanced on him. It might kill a part of him to torture something with Sam's face but he'd do it. "Not until we get what we want."

"You'll be begging for death by then." John knelt in front of not-Sam and stared it down. "Your choice. Fast and clean or slow and messy. Where is my son?"

"Now you care?" The shifter hissed a laugh, disturbing with the face of Sam when it sneered at them. "He's been sick for days and you haven't cared." He looked up to Dean with a wicked grin. "Neither one of you. He's probably better off."

"What?" John reared back and looked to Dean who gave him a confused face. John turned back to the shifter and fired a round into its left leg. The fact that it was not actually his son screaming and bleeding in front of him did nothing for his nerves. He glanced back to Dean and saw he was sheet pale and struggling to keep his eyes on the shifter as well. "Where is my son?" John asked again and pointed the muzzle of the gun at its other knee.

"Alright! Alright!" The shifter gasped. It curled around its bleeding leg and sobbed. "Second tunnel on the left. He's in there. Now just kill me!"

"Dean." John looked over but Dean was already moving. "You better hope Dean finds him and that he's alright." He warned darkly and the Shifter cringed away from him.

"Dad! I got him!" Dean's voice echoed back through the tunnel.

John said nothing; just raised the gun and put three into the heart of the creature. He cringed at the sight of Sam's face dead and then turned away to run for his sons. "Dean?"

"Here!"

John followed his voice and sobbed in a breath when he found them huddled together on the floor of the tunnel. "Sammy." John dropped and took his face in his hands. "Are you alright?"

"Dad he says he hurts." Dean's voice was laced with panic even as he turned a smile to his brother.

"Where are you hurt? Where?" John searched Sam, pulling his arms away from his stomach where he cradled them. "I don't see any blood. Sammy?" Sam was pale, translucent almost and covered in a cold sweat. John took his face in his hands again and smoothed the hair from his forehead. He was burning with fever as he moaned and tried to curl back over his stomach. The Shifter's words came back to him; Sam sick for days and he hadn't noticed.

"Hurts." Sam breathed in a small voice. He reached a hand out to fist it in his big brother's sodden jacket.

"We've got you, Sammy." Dean squeezed the back of his neck comfortingly. "Just tell us what's wrong?" He looked over at their father with pleading eyes.

"Sam? Move your hands." John pushed Sam's hands aside again. "Does it hurt here?" John pressed into his stomach, low on his right side and pulled his hand back. Sam shouted in agony and collapsed into his brother with a whimper. "Oh god. We have to get him out of here."

"Dad? What's wrong with him?" Dean gathered Sam into his arms and lifted with him, letting Sam bury his over-warm face in his neck.

John was drowning in guilt. He remembered Sam's pale face now, the flush to his cheeks that had been there for days, the million trips to the bathroom and how many times Sam had tried to tell him he was tired. "Appendicitis." John said, absolutely sure. It had happened to him as a teenager and he remembered the pain all too well. "He needs a hospital."

"Then let's go." Dean turned and headed for the nearest tunnel. "It's ok, Sammy."

"Hurts, Dean." Sam managed between clenched teeth.

Dean nodded. He squeezed Sam more tightly to him as they passed quickly through the tunnels with John now leading the way. He couldn't get the image of the shifter-Sam screaming and bleeding from his mind or the terror that had consumed him however briefly with the thought that they had been too late.

"He'll be alright." John said as much for himself as for Dean. How he managed to lead them unerringly out of the tunnels as lost as they'd been was a mystery and he silently thanked whatever good fortune had led him true as the saw their cars. "We'll come back for my truck." John strode to the Impala and opened the back door so Dean could climb in with Sam. They were a half hour out from the nearest hospital and every minute weighed on him.

Ten minutes into the drive Dean's newly panicked voice rose up. "Dad!" Dean cupped the side of Sam's face and rolled it so he could see him. "Something's wrong!"

"Doesn't…hurt anymore." Sam whispered and closed his eyes, relaxing against Dean in a dead faint.

"He says it doesn't hurt anymore. That's bad isn't it?" Dean held Sam closer to him.

"Shit." John pressed the gas pedal to the floor. "It means his appendix has burst. Yeah. It's bad. Just…keep an eye on him." He sped along the darkened road uncaring of the speed limit. Sam had little time left now. He cursed when lights began flashing behind him and a cruiser pulled out from a stand of trees.

"Hold on to him, Dean." John urged the Impala even faster. "We're not stopping." He knew the precious minutes it would take to pull over, explain to the officer that his son was dying and get moving again could cost Sam his life.

It was a reckless, high speed drive into town and to the hospital. He had gathered three cruisers behind him by the time he burned rubber coming to a stop almost in the doors of the Emergency Room. John threw himself out of the car and ran around the other side, yanking the door open. "Go, Dean! Get him inside. I'll handle this."

Dean inched across the seat and out with Sam cradled to his chest as the three cruisers finally caught up and screeched to a stop behind them. "Dad?"

"Get him inside now! Tell them his appendix burst over fifteen minutes ago." John gave him a push and then raised his hands in the air as the first officer jumped from his car, gun drawn.

"On the ground! Now!"

John didn't argue. He went to his knees and watched his sons vanish inside.

Dean screamed for help before the doors had even closed. "My brother needs help now!" Nurses converged on them and he was forced to give up his hold on Sam as they put him on a gurney. They fired questions at him as they sped down a corridor and into a room.

"It's his appendix. Dad says it burst fifteen minutes ago." Dean rubbed a hand over Sam's sweat soaked forehead. "He said it stopped hurting."

"Ok. We'll take care of him now." A nurse smiled up at him and tried to move him aside. "You have to let us take care of him now, sweetie."

Dean was shuffled to the side and let the drone of medical jargon wash over him as he watched Sam's face. He was so pale and so still. He wanted him to open his eyes. Dean needed Sam to open his eyes again. He felt awful. Sam had been off for days and Dean had thought it was just a bad mood about having to move again. He hadn't even thought…

"Sir? We're taking him to surgery now." The nurse put a gentle hand on his arm. "We're going to take very good care of your brother. I promise. Come on." She pulled him aside as Sam was wheeled out and led him to a waiting room.

"Our Dad. He should be in here…soon. I think." Dean scrubbed his hands through his hair and looked miserably down at her. "We uh…we kinda broke some speed limits to get here."

"That's ok. You saved his life." The nurse said with absolute surety. The young man was very close to too far gone.

"Yeah well, tell the cops outside that." Dean said angrily.

"Cops?" The Nurse's eyes widened. "Oh dear and they're no doubt arresting your…ok sweetheart. You just sit here." She pushed Dean unresisting into an uncomfortable plastic chair and strode away with purpose. Nurse Janice Harper had been a Nurse for a long time; long enough to know when someone had broken a law to save a life. She certainly wasn't going to sit by and let those poor boys' father be arrested for this. She strode out through the emergency room doors into controlled chaos.

There were seven officers now all crowded around a black Impala and one man on his knees with his hands cuffed behind him while his shoulders were roughly held. She saw the clear resemblance between him and his sons and strode forward.

"Officers!" Nurse Janice yelled in her best ER voice and had all their attention. "I demand you let this man go now. He has enough to deal with."

"Janice." Deputy Stark stepped around the father and smiled at her. "This man led us on a high speed chase. He's going to jail. Just you go back inside."

"Don't you talk to me like I'm an idiot Joey Stark." Janice put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "I remember when you were still in diapers!" His men snickered at him and his face darkened. "This man was trying to get his son here before he died!" Her declaration had the desired effect. Most of the men suddenly looked guilty and she wondered what sort of rough treatment the father had received before they handcuffed him. "Only just in time I might add." She lowered her voice for Joey's ears alone. "Honestly…it's still touch and go. Let him go, Joey. Please." She smiled up at him. "He was just trying to save his kid's life."

Deputy Stark glared for a moment longer and then sighed. "Dammit, Janice." He turned around and waved to his men. "Let him go."

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Dean sat with his head in his hands in absolute misery. His little brother was being opened up and fighting for his life and his Dad was probably on his way to freakin jail. What was he going to do? A familiar hand dropped onto his head and Dean looked up in surprise.

"Dad!" Dean forgot for a moment that he was nineteen and not a kid anymore. He jumped up and hugged his father.

"Hey, Ace." John hugged him back and then set him back down. "Nurse Janice told me everything." He looked back to the Nurse who he knew now was older than the twenty-five or so she looked. She smiled at them and left them alone. "That is one feisty lady." He sat beside Dean and resigned himself to waiting for news.

"Dad, I screwed up." Dean said in a spurt of self-loathing. "I should have noticed he wasn't feeling good."

"It's my screw up, Dean." John draped an arm over his shoulders. "I'm his father."

"But it's my job to take care of Sammy." Dean shook his head and wouldn't be put off on this. "He tried to tell me. I wasn't listening."

"He told me too, son." John pulled him a little closer. "He'll be ok. I promise."

Three hours later the coffee vending machine had run dry and both men were only a step short of pulling out their hair when Nurse Janice came back to them. "Mr. Winchester? Dean?" She smiled and put a hand on both their arms. "Sam's going to be fine."

"Can I see him?" Dean asked immediately.

Janice chuckled. "I'll take you too him. He's still a little out of it from the anesthesia." She crooked a finger at them to follow. "The Doctors think they were able to clear the infection from the ruptured appendix. He'll be on antibiotics for a while just in case." She stopped at a room door and opened it. "Take it easy for a while. The pain medication seems to have made him a little loopy."

Dean smirked. "Yeah it always does that to him." He went into the room and didn't take a deep breath until he was at Sam's side, hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Sammy."

"Thank you." John smiled down at Nurse Janice. "For everything."

She patted his arm. "All part of the service, Mr. Winchester."

John gave her a big smile and dropped a light kiss on her cheek. "Thank you." He left her flustered and smiling with a hand to her cheek and went to his boys.

"Dean?" Sam opened his eyes and looked up, smiling to find his big brother right where he should be.

"Hey Tiger." Dean brushed Sam's dark hair off his forehead. "How you feelin?"

"Sammy." John bent over him and looked into hazy blue-green eyes.

"Hey, Dad." Sam raised his head and looked down at himself. He raised his arm and gave a puzzled look to the tubes coming out of it. "Wha' happened?"

Dean snorted and sat on the edge of his bed. "We sold some of your parts for beer money."

Sam scowled up at him. "Did not, Jerk."

"Did too, bitch." Dean grinned.

"Boys." John shook his head with a laugh. He pulled a chair over and sat beside the bed. "Your appendix burst, Sammy. You're ok now." He took his son's hand in his. "I'm sorry we didn't listen to you."

"Huh?" Sam looked between them, confused and then shrugged. "S'okay. I feel floaty."

Dean chuckled. "Hey Dad. You got a pen laser on you?" He smirked at his father's disgusted look. "We could really screw with him."

"Button it, Dean." John said and rolled his eyes. "Leave your brother alone."

"Never." Dean said seriously and then smiled down at Sam again. "Can I see your scar?"

"No." Sam swatted at him and missed. Dean took his arm and lightly tapped Sam in the face with his own hand.

"Can I see your scar?" Dean asked again.

"Dude." Sam glared up at him. "Gimme my arm back."

"Can I see your scar?" Dean tapped his face again with his own hand.

John leaned back in his chair with a laugh. It was going to be a long few days and he wouldn't change a moment of it as he watched his sons torment each other and giggle.

"Can I see your scar?"

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_The End._


	18. For twohisglory2002

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Info: For twohisglory2002 - I would like for the boys to be pre Stanford era. Sammy somehow talks Dean into taking a helicopter tour around Glacier National Park here in Montana. Just a fun time vacationing with a caring John & Bobby along, anyhow papa John & Bobby have to come to the rescue. Of course the boys are hurt, (that goes without saying) & of course Sammy is hurt worse then Dean but is covering his worst injuries because of feeling guilty for talking Dean into the ride. So basically some pretty sick & hurt Sammy & hurt Dean with some sideline humor
> 
> A/N: The boys are 15 and 19 here. :P One good vacation gone bad coming up.

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Sam grinned out the window of the Impala as they passed the sign proclaiming Glacier National Park. He still didn't quite believe they were there for a vacation; no hunt, no training, just family time. He glanced out the back window and waved to Bobby in his truck behind them. Dean had told him that Bobby was probably the only person who could have convinced their Dad they deserved some down time and Sam knew he'd have to find a way to say thank you.

"Close your mouth, Sammy." Dean said with a chuckle from the front seat. "Bugs'll fly in."

Sam was indeed slack-jawed looking up and up at the mountains that rose above ahead of them and the slice of Glacier he could see sitting in the v between the two. He couldn't wait to actually see it. "This is so cool." He said softly.

John Winchester smiled behind the wheel. He hadn't wanted to do this. There were several hunts they could have been doing but in the end, Bobby had been right. A little slice of normal would do good for his family and it would be refreshing for all of them to have John as just a father, rather than the drill Sargent he usually needed to be. Not that he wasn't still itching to be chasing something; he was but for this weekend he was putting his sons first and the unabashed, joyous smile on the face of his fifteen year old was worth it. These days he and Sam did little but argue as he grew and developed a mind of his own. It was a never-ending source of pride and frustration for John.

Bobby and John shook their heads in amusement when they reached their cabin and both boys stayed inside only long enough to toss their bags on a bed and charge back outside.

"You still steamed at me?" Bobby asked John with a smirk.

John chuckled. "No, old man." He dropped his armful of grocery bags on the small kitchen counter and turned in time to duck the slap to the back of his head.

"Watch who yer callin' old." Bobby growled but he was smiling. They had a new and as yet, uneasy peace with each other. Bobby knew it probably wouldn't last; neither of them likely to forget the last fight, years back that had ended with Bobby escorting the boys' father out of his house with a shotgun. They were both making an effort now and for Dean and Sam, Bobby could bite his tongue so long as John remembered to be their father for a while.

"Beer?" John asked, pulling two bottles from a six pack.

"Hell yes." Bobby grabbed one and headed for the porch. Nine hours driving, his butt was ready to rest somewhere that wasn't vibrating.

John followed him and dropped into the chair next to him with a grateful sigh. "You're sure there's nothing up here?" He asked suddenly.

"What do I look like? Of course I'm sure!" Bobby rolled his eyes. He'd been very thorough in his research to find somewhere to spend a few days that had no signs of anything supernatural; nothing to interfere with a much needed vacation. John sighed and Bobby wasn't sure it wasn't disappointment.

"Dad! Dad!" Sam came running across the grass between cabins calling for him. Dean followed more sedately behind with a long suffering and miserable look on his face.

John smiled. Sam was almost as tall as he was now. A few more inches and he'd be taller; eye to eye with his older brother. It was starting to make him feel old. "What is it, Sammy?" John chuckled as Sam skidded to a stop on the little porch and caught his breath.

"Dad there's a chopper tour!" Sam declared and waved an arm in the general direction he'd come from. "To go look at the mountains and the glacier up close. Dad, can I? Please?" He pleaded. "Dean said he'd go with me cause they won't let me go without an adult." Sam gave his best disgusted sigh.

John looked up at his eldest son in surprise. "That true? You volunteered?" It was no secret that Dean was terrified of flying.

Dean glared briefly down at his brother and rolled his eyes. "He gave me those damn puppy dog eyes Dad."

Bobby chuckled and then laughed. "You're screwed, son."

"Tell me about it." Dean looked to his father and secretly hoped he'd nix this plan before his feet had to leave the ground. "Dad?"

John looked between his sons, shaking his head as his youngest brought out the aforementioned weapon; puppy dog eyes. There wasn't a teacher yet in any school who'd been able to resist them nor his big brother and John wasn't immune. He stared into Sam's pleading blue-green eyes and sighed. "Alright, Sammy." Sam jumped with a whoop and John grabbed his arms. "Hey! Rules, tiger." Sam immediately stilled and listened. "You do what Dean says. You do what the Pilot says. If Dean thinks that chopper doesn't look safe enough, you don't get on it." Sam groaned but nodded. John looked up at Dean with a smirk. "And you, Ace…" He chuckled at the now pale face of his eldest. "No puking on your little brother mid-air."

Dean, already looking decidedly green, rolled his eyes. "No promises."

"What kinda helicopter is it?" Bobby asked, curious and Sam grinned.

"It's a decommissioned Marine chopper. The pilot said so and it's got the logo on the side like on your shirt, Dad." Sam was practically bouncing to be away.

John laughed. "Well then it's a good machine. Go on." He turned Sam with a swat to his back and fixed Dean with a stern gaze. "Dean…."

"Take care of Sammy." Dean said and a hint of his usual humor came back. "Duh, Dad." He let Sam grab his hand and drag him off the porch into a jog and out of sight through the cabins.

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Sam chuckled at his big brother. Dean sat across from him strapped into his seat behind the cockpit and holding on to the safety bar beside him as though his life depended on it.

"Shut up, runt." Dean glowered at Sam and shut his eyes again as the helicopter banked to the left, throwing him against the side and making his stomach drop out of him with sickening speed.

"You're turning green." Sam smirked but reached across to pat Dean's knee. "You should look out, Dean. It's really cool." Sam went back to staring raptly out the window as the mountains loomed up before them. The bottom of the glacier spread out in the distance, spilling into a crystal clear lake. "This is so cool."

"Yeah." Dean groaned as the chopper banked again. "Real cool."

The helicopter swung up toward the forested mountain on their left; snowcapped peaks winking in the late day sun as they neared. Sam looked up to see the top and watched as dark clouds began to boil over the top.

"Guys, hang on. Ok?" The pilot's voice carried through a speaker to them. "Looks like we've got some weather coming over the peak."

"What?" Dean looked out and up and slammed his eyes shut again. "Aren't you guys supposed to check for shit like that?" He demanded in a miserable tone.

"I did." The pilot worked against the suddenly shifting wind currents to turn his chopper away. "Sometimes they just blow up like this." He fought with the stick as the churning mass of dark clouds swooped down at them, eyes widening in worry. "Nothing you can do but hold on and get down."

"Wow." Sam felt the helicopter shake as the clouds neared and felt the first kernel of fear. "Dean?"

"S'okay, Sammy." Dean was terrified himself but the worry he heard in his little brother's voice made him suck it up. "He'll get us down. Fast. Right?"

The pilot, Shane, fought the vicious downdrafts. He nodded but didn't speak, needing every ounce of concentration to control the vehicle. He'd managed to turn them partway, exposing the side of the helicopter to the storm that was almost on them. "Shit! Hold on!" He saw the downdraft coming as a wave of cloud swept in and knew it was going to be bad.

"Dean!" Sam wanted very badly just then to be next to his brother.

"Don't!" Dean looked up to see Sam fighting to free himself from his harness. "Just hold on, kiddo! It's gonna be ok."

Sam let go of the clasp on the harness and held on to the straps instead; truly scared as he looked out the far window and saw darkness coming for them.

Shane dropped his eyes to the little picture stuck to his dash; a lovely young woman with blonde hair blowing in a breeze as she smiled up at the camera. "Sorry, doll." Shane said softly and shouted in anger as the bank of clouds overtook them and the stick was ripped from his hands and the helicopter rolled upside down with a dizzying view of the forest below.

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"Where the hell are they?" John set aside his empty beer beside the others and glanced at his watch. The boys had been over an hour.

"Maybe it's a long tour." Bobby shrugged and looked out toward the mountains. He stood then, shading his eyes. "Huh."

"What?" John stood beside him and squinted into the distance. "Is that a storm?"

"Looks like it. Come on." Bobby stepped off the porch, John at his side. "We'll go have the Ranger contact the pilot. See where they are."

"Damn well better be on their way back." John growled and stalked along beside him between the cabins with a sick feeling in his stomach that he couldn't shake. It was early enough in the year the park was still fairly empty; maybe a dozen other campers. The two men neared the ranger station at the front of the park and the sick feeling in John's gut became instant dread as he overheard the Ranger yelling.

"Whiskey Tango Hotel 1, report last position. Over." The Ranger yelled into the microphone as he'd done several times already. He leaned out the door to look up at the surprise storm now quickly making its way down the valley and groaned. "Dammit, Shane. Answer me!"

"What's going on? What's happened?" John took the man's arm and turned him bodily away from the radio. "My sons are up there."

"Oh god." The Ranger stared at him and out to the storm again.

"Hey!" Bobby snapped his fingers in the young man's face as fear ate at his nerves. "What the hell's goin' on? Where are they?"

"I…I lost them." The Ranger paled at the look on the father's face and took a step back. "That squall popped up so fast I didn't have time to warn them." He looked back up at the mountains. "Shane was on the radio and then it just went dead."

"Dead?" John turned to stare at the storm. Thunder started to roll through the valley. The calm breeze suddenly picked up into a stiff wind, strong enough to knock him back a step. "Bobby?"

"Ok. Ok." The Ranger set the radio down. "I need to batten down the camp." He stepped out of the little station and was immediately grabbed by Bobby.

"What you need to do is get some men and get the hell up that mountain!" Bobby shouted in his face.

"Sir, we can't!" The Ranger shook his head and worked to free his arm from the steely grip. "Not until that storm passes. Twelve hours tops."

"Twelve hours." John whispered. He put a hand on Bobby's arm. "Let him go."

"Dammit, Winchester!" Bobby let the Ranger escape to run off toward the cluster of cabins. "We gotta do something!"

"We're going up." John turned back toward their cabin. "Come on. Let's gear up." His voice was low and sounded calm.

Bobby knew better. He could hear the barely disguised panic beneath it; see it in the way John's hands shook as they scrubbed through his hair. "We go up there in this we could end up needing rescuing too."

"Fuck that." John said angrily and then took a breath. "Sorry." He dug his keys out of his pocket when they reached the cars and opened the trunk of the Impala. "We can't just leave them up there overnight. They could be…" He couldn't finish the thought; couldn't allow himself to let that word into his thoughts or he'd fall where he stood and never move again. He'd let them go up there.

"Not your fault, John." Bobby reached around him and pulled out the packs he knew the man had been after; survival gear. "I've got extra flashlights in my truck, some camplights." He handed the bags to John who took them woodenly and shut the trunk. "Go load us up some supplies. First aid kits' already in the cabin. I'll go back and get the last known position from the Ranger station." He gave John a gentle shove toward the cabin.

John listened to Bobby jog away and headed for the cabin. Self-recrimination swirled through his head like a fog. "Why'd I let them go?" He whispered to himself as he went to the cabin. "God, Mary. What have I done?"

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Sam groaned. He wanted to open his eyes but they were just so heavy. He felt as though a weight were sitting on his chest. He tried to take a deep breath and it set him coughing. Short, painful barks took his breath away and made his eyes water.

"Dean." Sam whispered when he could finally breathe again and opened his eyes. He gasped and had to suffer through another bout of coughing until finally he was wheezing for relief. The helicopter had crashed and was planted nose down. Sam hung from his safety harness with Dean sprawled below him, unconscious; the side of his big brothers' head covered in blood. "Dean!" He had a brief, dizzying flash of the cabin spinning, of the ground rising up too fast to meet them and then nothing.

Sam looked about the cabin. The windows were cracked though still in their frames. There was nothing but tree and rain to see out either side. The storm was pouring rain to echo on the hull of the chopper. A roll of thunder vibrated the hull before dying away. He hung his head for a moment then wrapped shaking hands around the latch of his harness. He fumbled for the catch, desperate to be free of it and check his brother. He growled in frustration as it resisted his attempts to open it and finally it gave a little snick and the four belts of the harness popped out.

"Ah!" Sam cried out as he dropped the few feet to land on Dean's outstretched arm. The impact sent pain like shards of glass through his chest and stomach. He huddled in on himself for a moment, unable to do anything else as he just tried to breathe while spots crawled across his vision. Finally the pain abated and he raised his head. "Dean?" Sam put a trembling hand to his brother's chest and sighed in relief when he felt the steady beat of his heart beneath his palm. He crawled carefully off Dean's arm and knelt beside him.

"Dean. Wake up." Sam gave him a shake, choking on the need to have him awake. Fifteen didn't feel so grown up with you were scared and hurting. He needed his big brother. "Dean, please." He shook him again and wiped some of the blood from Dean's face with his hand.

Dean woke with a start, jerking up and nearly colliding with Sam's head. "Shit!"

"Dean!" Sam nearly cried in relief. "We crashed."

Dean dropped back and raised a hand to his pounding head. Her jerked his hand away and stared wide-eyed at the blood. "Holy crap." He looked up into Sam's scared eyes. "You ok, Sammy?"

Sam nodded. "What do we do?"

Dean groaned and gripped his brother's arm to pull himself up so he was sitting. "Pilot." He looked over to the cockpit door and crawled to it, realizing suddenly that the helicopter had landed nose down and he was standing on the wall. It took him three tries to get the door partially open and when he did he hastily turned away.

"Stay over there, Sam." Dean gave his pale brother a gentle nudge away. "You don't wanna see this." He turned back and swallowed against his own nausea. The cockpit of the helicopter had been crushed almost into the bulkhead where Dean stood. What was left of the pilot was a red ruin smashed in a nest of limbs and trunk that had speared in through the window. The radio was a total loss, the entire control panel shattered beyond repair.

"Dean?"

Sam's voice pulled him back. He turned away from the cockpit and saw Sam with his head against the cracked glass, staring down. "What's up?"

"We are." Sam turned shadowed eyes to look at him. "We're up a tree. Can't tell how far."

"Aw…that's just not fair." Dean dropped to sit and rested his head in his hands. He had little doubt he was concussed and only hoped it wasn't bad enough to keep him from saving their asses. "Ok. We need to get out of here."

Sam lowered himself carefully beside his brother and held his breath rather than whimper with the pain. "Maybe we should stay." He ran a hand over the side of Dean's head. "You've got an awful big bump, Dean."

"It's ok, kiddo." Dean looked up finally and smiled for him. "This is just like one of Dad's surprise lessons, yeah?"

Sam nodded, somewhat comforted. Their father was fond of dropping them off in the woods with their packs and a gun and letting them find their way out the other side. Survival training was his and Bobby's favorite lesson, though Bobby usually came along with them, teaching them to track and hunt in addition to everything else. "Ok."

"Good." Dean pushed himself up to his feet again. "You see what you can find in here. I'm gonna get one of these doors open." He frowned when Sam stood up with an arm wrapped around his middle. "Hey, you alright?"

"I'm fine." Sam gave him a small smile. "Just got hung up in the harness." He pointed over their heads. "It's fine."

Dean opened his mouth to press and then swayed, slapping a hand out to the bulkhead to steady himself. "Ok. Down first." He shook his head but that didn't help dispel the dizziness or the nausea. "Let's move, Sammy." He used the wall to guide him back to the door and took a firm grip on the handle.

Sam found a compartment beside where he'd been sitting. Reaching it was a problem. Every time he stretched up his chest screamed at him and left him trying not to gasp in pain. They had to get out. They couldn't afford for him to be a baby about some bruised ribs. He looked over to Dean who was leaning against the door and panting with his eyes closed. Dean needed him to be stronger than that. Sam braced one arm around his chest and raised the other up, getting his fingers around the handle. He slid the door open and barely managed to dance out of the way as a heavy duffel fell out and thumped beside him.

"Got something, Dean." Sam knelt carefully and unzipped the bag. Inside was a rope, a canteen, a thermal blanket and what felt like some sort of tarp.

"Nice one, Sammy." Dean swallowed the nausea back and pulled on the door again. "If I can just….get this stupid…door…open!" He yelled and finally the door slid a few feet to the side. At the same time the helicopter shifted in its perch. "Shit!" They both held on to what they could as it shook in the tree and tilted slightly backward. Dean slapped a hand out to his brother, catching his shoulder and dragged him over so he could get an arm around him. "Hang on."

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"Winchester! Slow the hell down!" Bobby shouted to the man's back. He was setting a blistering pace up the mountainside, paying little heed to the driving wind or the near freezing rain that pounded down on them.

"Keep up or go back, Singer!" John shouted back and used the trees to pull him up the steep hill. There was a buzzing in his ears he knew wouldn't go away until he had his boys again. He grunted with effort, climbing over a low wall of haphazard boulders and gasped as his feet went out from under him on the wet rock. He slapped down on his chest and slid backward. John scrabbled to catch hold of something and looked back in surprise when his fall stopped.

"You're not gonna do them any good you get dead tryin' to find 'em." Bobby gave John's feet a push until the man had his feet and then crawled up after him more carefully. "Idjit."

John ducked his head, letting the rain slide off his hair and took a deep breath. "Right. You're right." He got to his feet and turned to follow Bobby. "I can't lose them, Bobby. Not like this."

"We aint gonna lose 'em." Bobby said fervently. "Those boys know how to take care of themselves." So long as they weren't too hurt to, he thought but didn't say it aloud. Their Dad didn't need to hear that. "Come on." He held out a hand and pulled John up after him. "That hurt?" He asked, nodding to the open rents in the man's shirt from his fall.

John shook his head. "It's fine. Let's keep going." He didn't have time to piddle around with a few scratches.

"Pig-headed, stubborn idjits." Bobby grumbled and led the way uphill at a safer pace. "All of ya."

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"That's it, Sammy. Just hold on." Dean played more of the rope out, lowering his brother down and wedged his feet more firmly against either side of the door. The helicopter had settled again after shifting a few feet for which Dean was grateful; he'd been considering having a brown trouser moment at that point.

"I'm down!" Sam's voice called up and Dean sighed, relieved. "Dean, hurry up!"

"I'm coming, kiddo." Dean yelled back and tied off his end of the rope to the door handle. He groaned and rubbed gingerly at the side of his head and the lump there. "Don't have time for this." He swung his legs out into the rain and shivered. "Of course it's freezing." He groaned and started the long slide down to the ground.

Sam watched Dean's legs coming toward him and focused on the helicopter above them. He thought he'd seen it move. "Dean? Hurry up!"

"What?" Dean tried to catch a glimpse of him below but the rain was pouring into his eyes. A sudden creak of metal from above him made him turn his head slowly up, as though if he didn't look it wouldn't happen. "No. No. No."

"Dean!" Sam shouted as the chopper shifted suddenly and Dean dropped several feet with a yell.

"Look out below!" Dean loosened his grip on the rope and shot downward. He was in no mood to be crushed by the damn chopper when they'd finally gotten out of it. "Sam, get away!" He grunted when his feet hit the ground and he landed on his back. Sam was suddenly there pulling on his arms.

"Come on! Up! Get up!" Sam pulled frantically at his brother, ignoring the pain it was causing him.

"Thought I told you to move!" Dean stumbled to his feet. He wrapped one arm over Sam's shoulders and grabbed the bag they'd found with the other. "Go!" He dragged Sam into a stumbling run down the hill as a screech of metal came from the tree. A moment later the sound of the helicopter crashing to the ground echoed in the rain and they both slid to their knees in the muddy earth. Dean looked over his shoulder and grinned.

"That sucked." Sam gasped, looking at the wreckage of the chopper. "I don't think I wanna fly in helicopters anymore."

"That's my boy." Dean shouldered the bag and draped an arm over Sam's shoulders again, shaking water out of his eyes. "Ok we gotta find a place to hole up til this friggin rain stops."

Sam groaned as Dean's arm hunched him over, thankful the rain swallowed the sound. He felt Dean sway beside him and wrapped his arm around his brother's waist. He didn't like that Dean was still feeling the effects of the blow to his head. It worried him and he found himself wanting Dad.

They staggered and stumbled slowly down the mountainside for what felt like days but was in reality only hours. The rain never seemed to cease. Sam was sort of grateful for it; the cold water was helping to numb his chest and stomach, keeping the pain at bay and he needed that. Dean wasn't doing so well. He was leaning heavily on Sam's shoulders and had already had to stop and throw up twice.

"Stop. Stop." Dean panted and stumbled to a halt. He took hold of the tree beside him and used it to slowly slide to the ground. "We can't do this in the dark." The sun had long ago set though with the storm, it was hard to tell. Dean dropped his head into his hands and groaned. The pounding headache had become splitting and he was fighting a constant battle not to puke as they walked. The rain was so cold he'd given up on shivering a while back and settled for wracking chills.

"Ok, Dean." Sam pulled the duffel off Dean's shoulder and pulled the thermal blanket out. He managed to wrap it around his brother, pulling it up over his head to block the rain. "You just...just sit. I can do this." He took the tarp out next and worked at propping it up on the limbs of the tree Dean sat against. Twice he had to stop and drop to his knees, curling over his chest and stomach as the pain lanced through him. The cough started again and he did his best to muffle it so Dean wouldn't hear. He needn't have worried. Once he had the makeshift lean-to set up over his brother, Sam crawled underneath and found Dean sound asleep against the tree under the blanket.

Sam pulled the thermal blanket up and got under it with his brother. They were both so cold from the rain; he didn't think he'd ever stop shivering. He squeezed up against Dean's side and tugged the blanket back down around them. He coughed again and turned his head into Dean's chest to muffle it and the moan of pain that came with it as exhaustion pulled at him.

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Dean woke slowly, surprised at finding himself warm and opened bleary eyes. The tarp from the helicopter had been propped up over him like a tent. He smiled and pushed back the thermal blanket from his face, taking a deep breath. His head felt a lot better; less stabbing pain and more a dull throb that he could deal with. He looked down at the weight against his chest and grinned.

"Nice job, Sammy." Dean patted his back proudly. "Come on, kiddo. Wake up." Soft light filtered around the edges of the tarp and the rain had stopped at some point while they slept. He brought his arm to check his watch. It was just after dawn. "Hey, Sammy." He looked down and shook his brother. "Come on, dude. Up and at 'em." Sam coughed but didn't wake. "Sammy?" He rolled Sam's head up and stared. Small droplets of blood smeared across his lips and chin. Dean saw to his horror that the front of his shirt was a splatter painting of similar drops.

"Oh god. Sammy?" Dean rolled him the other way so he lay across his lap and propped him up. He tried to think back to the night before. So much of it was a fog in his mind covered over with the miserable pain in his head but he vaguely remembered Sam coughing a few times, walking hunched over himself and saying he was just bruised from the harness. Dean took the hem of Sam's shirt and pulled it up his chest, his eyes widening with horror as he did so. Sam's torso was covered in mottled bruises in the pattern of that damn harness. The left side of his chest was slightly swollen and as Dean pressed his fingers across it Sam moaned.

"Sam? Come on, buddy. Open your eyes for me." Dean put his shirt back down and held him closer. "Why didn't you tell me, Sammy?" He felt an unbearable level of guilt that he'd used Sam as a crutch half the damn night and here the kid had been suffering the whole time. "I gotta get you out of here now." Reluctantly, he leaned Sam up against the tree and tucked the blanket around him. "Stay put."

Dean crawled out from under the tarp and started looking for any long lengths of wood and fallen tree limbs he could use for a litter. Sam was too big for him to carry anymore. He roamed further down the hillside and found an old collapsed tree. He grabbed on to one of the long limbs and growled with the effort of breaking it off. The crack echoed through the forested slope and he set it aside, going to work on another.

"Hello? Dean? Sam?"

Dean's head jerked up in shock at the sound of his father's voice and then Bobby's. His heart swelled with hope and he climbed up on the fallen tree. "Dad! Bobby! Over here!" He kept calling their names as their voices grew closer and finally he saw them. "Dad!" Dean slid off the tree and down the slope until he reached them and found himself wrapped up in his father's gruff hug; Bobby slapping his shoulder with something close to tears in his eyes.

"Dean." John pulled back and looked him over. "Are you alright? Where's Sam?"

"I'm ok. Dad." Dean started pulling him and Bobby both up the slope. "Sam was hurt in the crash. The harness. He needs help now, Dad."

"How bad is it, son?" Bobby could hear the desperation in his voice and it did nothing to settle his nerves or John's by the look on his face.

"I dunno." Dean scrambled back over the fallen tree and waited for them. "He's coughing blood."

"What?" John all but jumped the tree in his haste.

"Not much but he's coughing it up." Dean climbed the rest of the way with his father and Bobby on his heels.

John's heart clenched at the news of how badly his youngest was hurt. He smiled though when he saw the makeshift tent they had set up. "Good job, Dean."

"Sammy did it." Dean told him miserably. "Whacked my head pretty good. He got me down here. Did this." Dean waved his hand and pulled the side of the tarp away to reveal Sam beneath it.

"Come here. Lemme see that noggin of yours." Bobby pulled Dean to him while John crouched down with Sam.

"Sammy?" John pulled Sam gently into his arms and used a thumb to wipe the blood from his chin. He was so still and so pale he had trouble remembering his was fifteen and not five. He looked so small lying there like that. "Wake up for me, tiger." He took a look under Sam's shirt as Dean had done and hissed fearfully at the bruising there. "Bobby, call em."

"Right." Bobby let Dean shove his hand away from his head and unslung his bag to pull out the radio he'd packed. "You're head's fine."

"Could have told you that." Dean said with a roll of his eyes and went to sit beside his Dad and brother. "I couldn't wake him up."

"It's ok, Dean." John put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a smile. "You did good."

"I didn't do crap." Dean shook his head and took Sam's hand in his. "He's gotta be ok."

"He will be." John nodded firmly and pulled the thermal blanket back around Sam, tucking it under his chin to keep him warm.

"Chopper's coming." Bobby informed them and put the radio away. "They're homing in on our GPS."

"We came prepared." John told the surprised look on Dean's face.

Dean brushed the dark hair off his brother's forehead. "You gotta wake up kid. You're gonna miss all the fun."

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Sam woke warm and comfortable. He felt a vague sort of pain in his chest but it was dulled and distant. He blinked heavy eyes open to find Dean leaning in over his face.

"Morning, sunshine." Dean grinned down at him.

Sam could see relief swimming in his eyes. "Dean? We're not on the mountain anymore?"

"Gee, your fast." Dean snorted.

"Dean, move over." John smirked and pushed Dean aside a little so he could see Sam. "Hey, Sammy."

"Dad? Wha?" Sam looked around and found he was in a hospital in a bed.

Dean took his hand and gave it a squeeze. "Been a couple days since the mountain, Sam." A long couple of days while the Doctors had taken care of his broken ribs, lacerated stomach and a partially collapsed lung. Through all of it Dean had paced, sat, paced some more and in general felt miserable.

John had suffered with him. It had been his stupid mistake to let them go on the helicopter in the first place. He wasn't sure he'd ever forgive himself that mistake no matter how many times Bobby tried to convince him it was dumb, blind bad luck and not his fault.

"Days?" Sam rested a hand on his chest and frowned.

"You're going to be fine, Sammy." John cupped a hand at the side of his face and smiled. "You did really well up there. I'm proud of you." He looked up to Dean. "Of you both."

"Hey Dean?" Sam looked up at his big brother with a confused look on his face. "How come he's not pissed?"

Dean snorted a laugh and sat on the side of the bed next to him. "He's high on the meds, Dad." He told his father who stared between them. "Give him time, Sammy. He'll think of something."

John sat back and sent a dirty look to his eldest son as he laughed. "Next vacation I'm locking you both in the damn closet."

Sam chuckled and closed his eyes, enjoying the floaty feeling from the morphine. "Wouldn't fit." He said sleepily. "Dean's too big."

"Am not!" Dean lightly punched his brother's arm.

"Too much pie." Sam mumbled and smiled as he fell asleep again to Dean's laugh.

"You little…" Dean twitched the blanket over him, brushing his fingers along Sam's jaw before he sat back.

John chuckled and stood, pulling out his phone. "I'm gonna call Bobby. Let him know Sam's alright." He clapped a hand to Dean's shoulder and went out in the hall. Once outside he leaned against the wall, closed his eyes and just shook for a moment. It had been too close. He knew without a doubt if they had listened to the Ranger he'd be burying his youngest son right now and the fear of that blew through him in a cold wave. He shook himself and headed down the hall. He'd just have to make sure something like this never happened again.

Dean settled in next to his brother, ignoring the dirty look the nurse gave him when she came in and found him sitting beside Sam. Once she left he rested an arm above Sam's head and just listened to him breathe. "Don't ever scare me like that again, Sammy." He closed his eyes. "Can't live without you. Pain in my ass."

"M'sorry." Sam's mumble was soft and mostly asleep but he curled over toward Dean, resting his head in his side as he drifted away.

"You little shit." Dean groaned and shook his head, embarrassed to have been caught saying what he had. "Hope you're too high to remember that later. You're such a girl." But he didn't move away, instead wrapping his arm around Sam's back and pulling him closer while he slept.

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_The End._


	19. For LaedieDuske

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Info: For LaedieDuske - I really miss the brotherly bond from the earlier seasons, back before they both got to be so broken and the wedges between them so nearly insurmountable. For the reward fic I really just want to see some Sam taking care of Dean and Dean letting him for a change. I want it badly enough I don't even care how you get there - okay, except for the drinking that is. If I never see/hear/read about Dean taking another friggin' drink or walking into another bar it'll be too soon for me.
> 
> A/N: Set in Season 1 after 1x03 "Phantom Traveler" just because. :D I know what my Laedie likes so expect Dean's tummy to take a beating in this one. XD

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Dean could pin-point the exact moment the hunt had gone sideways. It was a short series of events that played through his head in slow motion as if accusing him. They were hunting a Werewolf and tracking it had proved easy. When it had killed its third victim, the thing had managed to swallow the woman's cellphone along with her right hand. Dean had laughed when Sam had discovered they could track it with the GPS. He'd wanted to call their Dad just to share their good fortune and hear him laugh because he found it funny as hell. He hadn't of course, knowing full well their father wouldn't answer so he'd set it aside, grabbed his gun and headed out with a grin.

They'd followed the signal to the trailer park where it was snacking on residents and then the blood trail out into the woods. He had watched Sam ahead of him, eyes intent on the GPS signal from his phone; He'd seen Sam stop and turn back with wide eyes, remembered the surprise and then fear in his brother's eyes as he'd pointed to the jumbled pile of remains. He remembered the moment he had realized what he was looking at was a disembodied hand wrapped around a cell phone. That moment was frozen with crystal clarity in his mind because a second later it all went to hell.

The Werewolf was hunting them and Dean was too busy being amused to realize it. It dove from the tree above them and turned its snarling maw not on Dean who would have taken it as well deserved; No. It turned on Sam.

"Sam!" Dean shouted, fear dropping into his stomach as the creature towered above his brother and reached for him.

Sam turned with the shout and froze as the Werewolf landed beside him. He could almost count the rows of teeth in its mouth; trails of drool flung from its jaws as it opened its mouth wide and leaned down to him. He raised his gun and knew in that way you do when time slows down that you won't be fast enough. He was going to die…or worse, be bitten and survive. 'Don't let my brother have to kill me.' Sam pleaded silently as he felt the creature's fetid breath on his face.

In a single blink of Sam's eyes, everything changed. Where he'd thought to feel jaws rending the flesh of his neck he instead felt the flat of Dean's hand strike his chest. He saw his older brother throw himself between him and the Werewolf. As he fell Sam watched in awe as Dean drove his fist up into the Werewolf's jaw, snapping its mouth closed. For a moment, he thought it would be alright; that miraculously they weren't about to die and then he felt his brother's name leaving his lips in a scream. The Werewolf brought one massive, clawed hand around. He couldn't see but knew it hit Dean in the chest, or maybe his stomach. Sam heard the explosion of breath leave him as Dean was thrown backwards through the air.

The ground rushed up to catch Sam finally, slamming into his back; a tree rocking into the back of his head with enough force to shake his vision with stars. He held on to consciousness with one eye on his brother and the other for the bastard that had hurt him. The Werewolf turned to Sam with his brother's blood dripping from its claws. Sam raised his gun, somehow still in his hand and fired into the beast's chest, round after round until the hammer clicked; empty. The Werewolf toppled to the ground and laid still, its heart shredded with silver.

"Dean." Sam rolled to his knees and groaned, his head spinning as pain lanced behind his eyes. He shook it off and crawled over to his brother who lay far too still for his peace of mind. "Dean?" Sam reached him and hovered shaking hands over the bloody ruin of Dean's shirt before laying a hand to his throat. "Please, please." He whispered and shuddered in a breath when he felt the pulse beating beneath his fingers. He put gentle hands to the sides of Dean's face and turned his head toward him. "Dean? Wake up. I need you to wake up."

Dean was more than happy to stay floating in the darkness. It was peaceful and painless. The sound of his little brother's voice nagged at him; there was fear in Sam's voice and that wasn't alright. He struggled toward waking and then he remembered; the Werewolf had come for them and it was going to kill Sam. He jerked awake, eyes flying open in a rush.

"Sam!" Dean shouted and fell back as pain flared in his stomach. It was a monstrous pain that stole his breath and his voice. He stared up into Sam's blue-green eyes and fought not to close his own, to focus on them and the moisture he saw collecting there.

"Dean. Lay still, ok?" Sam smiled, knowing it had to be more of a terrified grimace but he couldn't stop that. "Let me look." He let go of his brother's face and took hold of his shirt, lifting it carefully to see beneath it, bracing himself for the worst. Four long furrows had been dug out of Dean's stomach, trailing off to just below his heart. They were deep enough to make Sam swallow hard but thankfully not deep enough to threaten Dean's life.

"I'm ok." Dean said, breathless and tried to bat his brother's hands away.

"Stop. You're not ok." Sam pushed his hands back. "I think we're going to the hospital." He took his jacket off and then pulled his flannel shirt off.

"No hospitals." Dean said firmly. He tried to put himself up and fell back, gasping for breath and afraid to touch his own stomach.

"Stop being stubborn." Sam scowled down at him as he folded his flannel into a makeshift pad. "This is gonna hurt but I need to stop the bleeding." The amount of Dean's blood staining the ground around him was making Sam's chest hurt with tension. He laid the folded shirt against Dean's stomach and pressed.

"Gah! God!" Dean shouted and tried to curl around the new agony but Sam held him down, keeping the pressure even.

"Breathe. Just breathe." Sam coached him in a forced, calm voice and kept his hands in place.

Dean slammed his eyes shut and focused on breathing through the pain and not passing out. The fear was naked on Sam's face and he couldn't stand it. He was supposed to be the one in control, not lying around on the ground like a wounded antelope. "M'ok…crap."

"Ok. Ok." Sam lessened the pressure and raised the pad of the shirt. The bleeding had slowed enough to remove some of his fear. "We need to get you out of here."

Dean shook his head and looked up at him. "Werewolf."

"It's dead." Sam informed and nodded behind him.

Dean sighed and smiled. "That's…my boy."

Sam smirked at the praise. "I'm gonna help you up, you ready?"

"No." Dean nodded anyway and let Sam slide an arm behind his shoulders.

"Put your hand here." Sam ordered and guided Dean's right hand to his stomach, pressing it to the shirt. "Hold this in place." He tugged Dean's left arm over his shoulders and started the slow process of getting Dean to his feet. He kept his other hand over Dean's on his stomach as Dean listed to the side, paling and gasping and held him up. "Breathe."

"Hurts." Dean managed between clenched teeth and hated himself a little for the weakness.

"I know." Sam waited until he felt Dean get his breath back and started them in a slow walk. "Least it's not far back to the car and hey! No hills."

"Dude." Dean smirked even as his head spun with blood loss. "Your bedside manner s…sucks." He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and keeping his hand firm against his stomach. "Forgot your jacket."

"Screw the damn jacket." Sam said fiercely and took a breath to calm himself. "I'll get it when I come back to burn the body."

"Should do it now, Sammy." Dean blinked, realizing his eyes had been closed.

"It'll keep." Sam ignored him and kept them moving.

"Kay." Dean said softly.

Sam staggered when more of Dean's weight fell on his shoulders. "Dean? Stay awake, man. Come on." He gave him a gentle shake until his brother's head rose up.

"S…sorry. Tired." Dean took some of his weight back and started moving again. He wanted to sleep but didn't think Sam wanted to carry him. That thought made him chuckle. The laugh, soft as it was pulled his stomach muscles and whited out his vision in pain. When he came back to his senses he found himself on his knees resting in the circle of Sam's arms with his brothers' worried voice in his ear. "Sorry. New rule. No laughing."

Sam leaned his head in Dean's hair for a moment in relief and then got a grip on him again. "We're almost there. Just a little further." Dean's unusual quiescence to Sam's every order was scaring him more than the wounds. Dean always fought him when he tried to take care of him, as though it were some unwritten rule that he cared for Sam and needed no one to do the same for him.

By the time they reached the car Dean was ghostly pale and barely awake. Sam considered putting him across the backseat but opted instead to keep him up front where he could make sure Dean kept pressure on the wound; or could do it for him if he passed out again. Dean muttered occasionally as Sam sped along the back roads, telling Sam he didn't want a hospital, only Sam. He ignored him. Sam knew there was no way he was stitching up muscle and skin and the risk of infection alone made him tremble. He was not going to lose his brother because he'd been to slow to save himself.

"Almost there, Dean." Sam said to reassure him, or perhaps himself but Dean was out. His head lolled on the seat back, hands falling to his sides. "Dammit." Sam reached across and pressed the now sodden weight of his shirt back into Dean's stomach.

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Dean woke slowly to the sound of an insistent and irritating beep in his ear. He wanted it to stop and he wanted… "Sammy?"

"Dean?" Sam jerked his head up from where he'd been dozing and leaned in.

Dean blinked sluggish eyes and frowned when all he saw was a dark blur above him. "Wha's goin' on?"

Sam smiled. "You're gonna be fine."

"You sew me back up?" Dean asked and blinked harder, trying to make his eyes focus and fought the strange floaty feeling trying to carry him away.

"Uh…no. I mean yeah, you're all fixed up but uh…I didn't do it." Sam smiled again, hoping he wouldn't end up with a black eye. "You're in a clinic."

"Huh?" Dean stared around and it dawned on him what the beeping was; his own heartbeat registering on a monitor. "Son'bish."

Sam couldn't help the chuckle. "You're in one piece and if it makes you feel any better they drained me dizzy to fill you back up." His smile wilted around the edges. "You lost a lot of blood, man." He pulled Dean's hand back when it went for his stomach. "You don't wanna do that. The drugs are just taking the edge off."

"Drugs?" Dean frowned. "Izzat why my tongue feels fuzzy?" He ran his tongue around his teeth. "Sucks."

"Here." Sam took a cup and put it to his mouth, letting him have a few sips. "Easy. You're gonna choke." He pulled the cup away when Dean tried to gulp it. "You do not want to cough right now. Trust me."

Dean savored the water and leaned his head back with a sigh. "Kay. How many?"

"Stitches?" Sam asked and Dean nodded. "Triple digits, dude." He scrubbed a hand over his face, exhausted. "Told them a bear caught you. Not sure they believed me exactly but what the hell else are they gonna think?"

Dean snorted a small laugh and closed his eyes, feeling sleep pull at him. "Did good, Sammy." He waved a hand out looking for his brother and Sam caught it, holding on. "S'good."

Sam held his arm until Dean dropped back to sleep, breathing evening out as his face eased. He put a hand on Dean's head in his hair and smiled when his brother unconsciously rolled his head into the pressure. He dropped his head back to the side of the bed, near Dean's shoulder and let out a shuddering breath. "Scared me to death." Sam said softly. "Don't ever do that again."

"Sush a girl."

The words were soft and Sam jerked his head up with a laugh to see a small smile on his brother's face. "Go back to sleep, jerk."

Dean's sleepy smile widened. "Bish."

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_The End._


	20. For linneast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Info: For linneast - How about Sam's first fight with his Dad with Dean trying to run interference? Sam wants to play soccer not learn how to bow-hunt. Dean might make a deal that Sam will do more research for Dad if he can play? Feel free to take poetic license with the argument and Dean's response!
> 
> A/N: Ok Sam is 9, Dean is 13. :D Hope this is what you wanted, or close to it at least. lol

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Dean looked studiously down at the shotgun he was cleaning and not at the little brother currently giving the look of death to their father who seemed oblivious to the daggers being shot at him from Sam's blue-green eyes. The tension in the room was heavy enough he could feel it. It was kind of fascinating really. He snuck a peak to the side, checking Sam's frustration level and knew from experience that the flush creeping up his neck and clenched fists meant he was fast approaching lift-off. Dean was used to dealing with an angry Sammy but his little brother had never lost his temper with their Dad before; always too intimidated by the old man to do so. Dean thought this was going to be that time.

"Sam, there are more important things than playing a damn game." John Winchester took a deep breath, trying to keep his temper. He didn't like repeating himself and they'd had this discussion three times now. "You need to practice with the bow, Sam. Your aim is awful."

"I'm nine!" Sam waved his arms and felt the anger burbling up his throat. "Of course I'm awful Dad! Other kids play soccer not learn how to kill monsters! I wanna play Soccer!"

"Not gonna happen, Sammy." John turned his back on him before he said something he'd regret. It irritated him that Dean wasn't stepping in to shut Sam down; he was the only one Sam would listen too sometimes. "Stupid games will not keep you alive."

Dean looked in surprise as he actually heard his brother growl and set the gun aside. "Uh…Sammy?" It was too late.

Sam picked up the book their Dad had been looking through and launched it across the little kitchen. It slapped into the cupboard beside their father's head to explode in a burst of pages to the floor.

"It's not STUPID!" Sam shouted at the top of his lungs. He ignored the way his voice broke upward, sounding too much like a scream. He saw only red. "You never let me do anything normal! Ever! It's not fair!" Sam kicked one of the kitchen chairs in temper. "I don't wanna learn to shoot a stupid bow or a gun or run miles or…or…I wanna be a kid!"

Dean watched the steadily darkening expression on their Dad's face with trepidation. The shock was quickly giving way and if Sam didn't rein it in fast his backside would be singing for a week. He jumped off the couch and went to him, dropping heavy hands on his little brother's shoulders.

"Ok, Sammy. Take a breath." Dean said, keeping his voice light.

"No!" Sam pushed his brother's hands off his shoulders angrily and glared up at him. "You gonna take his side?"

"Sam Winchester!" John yelled; his temper finally lost. He came around the table, shoving the toppled chair out of his way. "You do not raise your voice to me like that!"

"Well you won't listen to me when I talk! It's bullshit, Dad!" Sam shouted.

Dean couldn't help the amused smirk at his brother parroting him but it turned to a pained grimace as his Dad's jaw dropped. "Oh man."

"Don't you cuss at me, Sammy!" John threw an arm out to the sink. "I will wash your mouth out you do it again!" He glared down at his youngest son and reined in the urge to shake some sense into the kid. "You'll do what I tell you! You need training. End of argument!" How could one nine year old be this damn frustrating? He looked over to his eldest son, expecting to find a sympathetic look. Instead, what he was made him frown; it looked suspiciously like rebellion.

"Sam." Dean took his shoulders again and gave him a little shake. "Pull it back for a sec, buddy." He made Sam look at him and raised his brows, smiling a little. "Just gimme two minutes ok?"

Sam fumed and opened his mouth to yell again but Dean gave him another little shake. He closed his mouth, recognizing the look in his big brother's eyes. He nodded shortly but said nothing, not trusting himself. He couldn't believe his Dad was just rolling over what he wanted…again! Ever since they'd told Sam the truth it was like Dad decided he didn't have to let him be a kid anymore. Only Dean seemed to care if Sam was happy and got to do normal kid stuff.

Dean moved Sam into his side and draped an arm over his shoulders so he could feel if Sam was gonna blow again. "Dad." Dean looked up at their Dad and silently pleaded for understanding. "Look. There has to be a compromise here."

"A Compromise?" John stared at his eldest as though he'd grown two heads. It was the last thing he expected. "Dean, he has to learn. You know that. Don't you start with me!" He hadn't expected to be ganged up on and it shocked him a little to have Dean disagree with him; something he rarely did.

"I'm not sayin' he don't learn, Dad." Dean rolled his eyes and tightened his grip on Sam when he felt him twitch. "Soccer's good exercise you know." He knew that the only way to appeal to their Dad was to make him see reason. "He's kinda scrawny still, right? Shut up, Sammy." Dean squeezed him again to say 'I got this'. "Soccer's in the afternoon right?" He looked down and got a short nod from Sam. "Well he can train with bow in the morning before school." Dean plowed on when his Dad opened his mouth to argue. "I'll teach him. Hell, I shoot better'n you."

John glared at him and resisted the urge to smile. "Soccer's not a sport, Dean." He said instead. "It's a bunch of idiots kicking a ball around a field."

"It is too, dammit Dad!" Sam shouted and yelped when Dean told hold of the back of his neck and pulled him back into line.

"Not…helping." Dean said firmly and waited until Sam subsided again. "You don't have to like it, Dad but he's right. He deserves to have a little normal."

John stared between his two sons; one rebellious and angry, the other pleading and trying to restore a shaky peace. He sighed, defeated and crossed his arms over his chest to look at them. "He gets up an hour early in the morning for Bow practice." John raised a brow. "With you, Dean. No sleeping in."

Dean groaned but nodded. He wasn't happy about losing extra sleep but it would make Sam happy so…he'd deal. "Fine."

"If your training or your research suffers because of Soccer, Sammy, it's over." John said severely, fixing his youngest with a firm stare. "You hear me?"

"Yeah." Sam said and rolled his eyes when his Dad continued to give him the stare. "Yes, sir."

"I catch you cussin at me again, Sammy and there _will_ be a bar of soap with your name on it." John looked to Dean at that point because he knew who was making Sam's vocabulary more colorful. Dean ducked his head with a grin but said nothing. "Go on. Get ready for bed boys." John turned away, dismissing them to pick up what was left of his book.

Dean kept a firm grip on his brother and steered him out of the room and down the hall to their bedroom. He shut the door and gave Sam a little push toward the bed. "What's wrong with you shoutin' at Dad like that?" He asked Sam. "You know you make him mad he just shuts you down."

"He pissed me off." Sam said simply.

Dean chuckled. "Pretty sure you honked him off too, kiddo."

"Not a kid." Sam tossed over his shoulder as he climbed up on his bed.

Dean snorted and didn't point out he looked like one when he had to jump to get up on the tall bed. "Teeth first, shorty." He grabbed Sam around the waist and put him back on the floor. "We gotta get up early tomorrow now."

Sam wiggled away from him and then stopped. "I'm sorry, Dean." He said and meant it sincerely. "I didn't mean for you to have to do stuff just cause I wanna play Soccer."

"Don't worry about it, Sammy." Dean ruffled his hair and opened the door again. "I'll take it outta ya in the morning."

"Stop screwin' around and get to bed you two." John called, only half irritated. He wondered how bad a father it made him that his thirteen year old had to remind him there was more to life than revenge. He pulled out his wallet and flipped it open to reveal the stained, faded, dog-eared picture of his wife. Mary's young face smiled up at him as if amused and he sighed, dropping into a chair with a thump. "I just want to keep them safe, Mary." He closed his wallet and rolled his eyes. "How the hell is Soccer gonna keep him safe? Stupid ass fuckin' excuse for a sport." John jumped as something whizzed past his head to slide across the table. He caught it and stared at the bar of soap. "What the hell?" He turned when he heard the snort and saw Sam staring at him with his brows raised and a smirk.

"That's for your mouth, Dad." Sam said simply and dashed back down the hall before John could think to catch him.

John stared after him, trying to decide if he should be pissed or amused. He settled for a laugh and shook his head. "Too damn smart for his own good." He stood and tossed the soap into the sink. He scrubbed a hand over his face and cocked his head, listening to what was undoubtedly Dean pestering his little brother if Sam's shouts were anything to go by.

Dean wrestled Sam into his bed and sat on him with his little brother's head locked in his arm. "Way too slow, Sammy!" He laughed and administered the dreaded big brother noogie to Sam's shaggy hair.

"Dammit! Dean!" Sam struggled to free himself, grinning as he managed to plant one elbow somewhere useful as Dean grunted. "Get off me you big jerk!"

"Gotta make me, bitch!" Dean ruffled Sam's hair up into a spiky mess, grinning.

"Thirty seconds to bed check!" John shouted down the hall. "Anyone not where they should be's gonna do laps in their underwear!"

"Oh crap." Dean rolled off his little brother and dove into his own bed. "Night, midget."

"Bite me, Dean." Sam waited for Dean to roll over and then launched his pillow into his brother's face.

"Why you little…" Dean grabbed the pillow and jumped to the floor. He went over with a grin and clobbered Sam up the side of the head with it. He expected Sam to cuss at him and frowned when Sam laughed instead. "What?" Dean looked and then his eyes widened and he turned to see their father standing in the door. His shoulders fell along with the pillow. "Uh…"

"Gonna be an awful chilly run tomorrow, huh Dean?" John mock-glared at him. "Good night, boys." He pulled the door shut on Dean's curse and smiled. So maybe he wasn't such a terrible father, he thought to himself as Sam's laughter followed him down the hall. "Soccer." He rolled his eyes again.

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_The End._


	21. For Shannanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Info: For Shannanigans - Okay, so I was really, really bothered by Sam going to a drug dealer when the devil was torturing him. It wasn't acknowledged again or discussed with Dean. I'd like to see a story where Sam tries drugs again for some reason and THIS time Dean finds out and gives him hell. (Or some similar version of the above. I'm totally flexible.
> 
> A/N: Set post 7x17 "The Born-Again Identity"

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Dean turned on the pump and leaned over the hood of the car, watching his brother as he walked into the gas station. He'd been doing that for two weeks now; watching Sam. After Castiel had taken the madness away and Dean got him out of the psych ward, Sam had slept for two solid days. Dean had actually had to carry him from the car to the motel he'd finally stopped at, unable to wake him up. Dean had spent most of that time sitting on the other bed and just watching him sleep. Now that Sam was up and moving again, he couldn't seem to stop. He knew in a clinical sort of way that he was waiting. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was waiting for the whole thing to fall apart again. It wasn't that he thought it had been too easy; it had been a bitch. It was that he just couldn't accept that Sam was alright now. There had to be something else coming.

He scrubbed his hands through his hair and watched Sam through the windows and snorted in disgust at himself. Dean purposefully turned away and put his back to the car. "Knock it off, jackass." He muttered to himself. Sam wasn't unaware of his new fascination. He'd sent Dean a few pitying looks, some understanding looks and several bitch faces. Dean smirked. It was worth it to have Sam able to give him those damn looks of his again and only see Sam looking back at him; clear-eyed.

Sam glanced over his shoulder out the window and saw Dean finally turn away. He smiled. "About damn time." He said softly and went back to the coolers. He knew Dean worried and he knew how much it had hurt him; how close Sam had come to dying. It was the one thing Dean couldn't handle. He rolled his eyes. It was the one thing neither of them knew how to handle; living without the other in the world. He pulled several bottles of Gatorade from the cooler and a six pack of beer he knew Dean would want later. Sam shut the door and then put a hand out to steady himself as he swayed.

"Dammit." Sam closed his eyes and waited for the spell to pass. He blinked them open finally and looked outside, relieved to see Dean hadn't witnessed his little episode. He felt a little guilty keeping this from his brother but after everything he'd put Dean through a few weeks ago, he just couldn't burden him with something so ridiculous.

He couldn't sleep. Sam sighed and pulled a few bags of chips with him as he headed for the register. Lucifer had spent the better part of a year haunting him with Hell, weeks keeping him from sleep and tormenting him with the lack of it. The devil in his head was gone and where Sam should have been able to find peace in sleep finally it eluded him. It was the silence. He couldn't imagine trying to explain that to Dean. It was the quiet that kept waking him up each time he'd fall asleep. The silence in the motel rooms with only the whir of the air conditioner and Dean's soft snores should have seemed like nirvana after what he'd been through. Instead, it kept him from any meaningful sleep for more than an hour or two. It was exhausting him.

"That all for ya?" The clerk asked as Sam deposited his goods on the counter.

"That and the pump." Sam nodded outside. He paid for everything, gathered up the bag and plastered on his happy face before going back outside.

"You get anything good?" Dean asked as Sam neared. He set the pump handle back, flipping the gas cap closed and climbed in the car.

Sam slid in beside him and smiled. He dug in the bag and tossed a bag of chips to his brother. "Dill flavored chips."

"Dude." Dean grinned and ripped them open before starting the engine.

Sam grinned and took out a bottle of Gatorade before setting the bag in the back seat. "Beer for later too."

Dean nodded and pulled back out on the highway. He glanced over at Sam, noting the shadows still beneath his eyes. "You should get some sleep. Gonna be a while before we stop for the night."

Sam shrugged and drank half the Gatorade down. "Maybe. Not exactly tired yet." He smiled. "Think my sleep rhythm's still a little out of whack."

"No kidding." Dean smirked. He reached over and turned on the radio, turning the volume up as Muddy Waters poured some good old fashioned blues into the car.

They drove until ten that night when Dean finally spotted a motel disreputable enough to not bat any eyelashes when they paid cash or ask for ID. Staying off the Leviathan radar was driving them to places even Dean would once have turned his nose up at no matter how broke they were. Sam had stubbornly stayed awake for several hours before finally curling into the passenger window and falling asleep. He left him that way and ran in to get them a room.

Sam listened to Dean get out and sighed as the door shut. He wished he really had been able to sleep. Instead he'd laid his forehead against the cool glass of the window and tried unsuccessfully for it. He missed the Impala. He had a feeling the steady rumble of her engine would be enough noise to send him to sleep. Sam pushed himself up in the seat as Dean came back out and rubbed his eyes when his brother got back in.

"Hey, sleeping beauty." Dean smiled. "Five minutes you can have an actual bed." He eyed the motel as he pulled around to the back. "Ok, something resembling a bed at least. Not sure with this place."

Sam unfolded himself from the cramped seat when they parked and went to grab his own bag from the trunk even though Dean said he'd do it. It was another of those things he had trouble explaining to Dean these days; the need to have control even over something as simple as carrying in his own damn bag. It helped to ground him and remind him that he'd been saved and wasn't in danger of slipping into madness and death at any moment any more. It made it more real.

He let Dean have the first shower and went methodically about pouring salt lines and protecting their home for the night. Sam was so tired, the symbols he drew on the windowsill blurred in his eyes. He blinked furiously to clear them and finish the anti-angel symbols. Enochian was tough when you were wide awake let alone half asleep. He took some comfort in that this wasn't like before where he was fighting to stay awake and stay alive. He could sleep…he just couldn't seem to stay that way.

"Your turn." Dean said as he came back out of the bathroom toweling his hair dry. "Might have left you some hot water. Dude." Dean watched Sam head for the bathroom. "Don't stand under the shower too long. Water goes boiling at the drop of a damn hat."

Sam chuckled. "Sounds good to me." He took his bag in the bathroom and closed the door.

Sam did get scalded in the shower several times and didn't really mind. He let it soothe the weary muscles in his shoulders. He felt sleep pulling at him as he got out and dressed in t-shirt and sweatpants and hoped tonight would be the night his mind finally let him stay that way. He brushed his teeth, taking his time and then scowled at his image in the mirror. He looked tired still. He looked down at his hands and the nails that were still healing from his extended sleep deprivation. They weren't black anymore and were finally beginning to grow again but were still loose. It was a little disconcerting every time he caught one on a shirt or his hair and it shifted. He'd taken to putting Band-Aids over them and did so now. He didn't want to wake up again wondering if he was missing a fingernail in the bed somewhere. When he was done he opened the bathroom door and smiled.

Dean was curled under the blanket on his bed already softly snoring. Sam went quietly to his bed, clicked off the light and crawled under his blanket with a weary sigh. He let the sound of Dean's breathing lull him to sleep.

Sam startled awake and looked over to the dimly glowing clock. He groaned softly. He'd managed a whole hour that time before the silence had woken him. He stared up at the ceiling for a while and then finally got out of bed, irritated. He looked toward Dean's bed in the darkness and wished he could sleep like that again; soundly. He scrubbed his hands over his face and slumped. He didn't want to wake Dean. Sam bent and grabbed his sneakers, putting them on and padded softly out of the room, being extra careful to close the door soundlessly behind him.

The night was cold. Winter hadn't come just yet but Sam could taste it in the air; that crisp flavor on the night wind that said soon enough the temperature would really drop. He rubbed his arms to warm them and headed around the motel to the front. He was so damn tired. The lights were still on the rental office. Sam headed for it with tired steps and had to stop once, balancing himself against the wall when his head swam with exhaustion. He reached the office finally and pushed through the door.

"Help ya?" The young man at the desk asked as he looked up…and up at Sam. "Whoa. You're like, freaky tall dude."

Sam smirked and looked around the dingy office. There were a couple vending machines, a coffee maker with disturbingly dark coffee halfway up the pot and a bowl of packaged cookies that looked like it had been there a while. "Was kind of hoping to find something to help me sleep." Sam said with a shrug and leaned on the counter. "Tylenol PM or something?"

"Naw, nothing like that here. Sorry." The guy smiled and then leaned over. "I do have something would help get you to sleep though."

Sam studied his face and leaned back. "Drugs. You mean some kind of drug."

"Dude." The guy raised his hands in the air. "Nothing illegal I swear! My brother's got a prescription for them. They're really good at making you sleep."

"What is it?" Sam found himself asking and inwardly kicked himself for considering resorting to drugs a second time in as many months.

"Sobos." The guy smiled. "Bupreno-something or other but they call 'em Sobos." He pulled a pill bottle from his pocket and gave it a shake.

"And you have your brother's prescription because?" Sam raised his brows in question.

"He found something else to take." The young man rolled his eyes. "Lot worse than this. Come on." He opened the bottle and poured three out into his hand. "I promise you'll sleep like a freakin stone tonight, dude."

Sam looked at the little pills in his hand. The voice in his head that was Dean told him to turn around and walk away because this was so not a good idea. The other voice in his head though, the one that was craving just one damn good night's sleep was not so against the idea. "Can I see the bottle?" Sam asked and the kid shrugged, handing it over. Buprenorphine was the name of the drug on the bottle and Sam frowned. He knew that one, sort of. He'd seen it prescribed in the psych ward. That made him feel slightly better about it. The instructions said to let it dissolve under the tongue and he realized he'd been staring at the bottle when the desk clerk tapped his hand.

"What do you say?"

Sam looked up at him and nodded. "Yeah ok." He handed the bottle back and took the pills the kid handed him. "Hey uh, my brother comes back in here can you uh…not mention this?"

"Sure. Nothin' to tell." The kid smiled and waved as Sam turned and went back outside.

"This is a bad idea." Sam told himself as he walked back around the building and yet he still put two under his tongue, grimacing at the bitter taste as they began to dissolve. He put the last one in the pocket of his sweatpants in case he needed it later. "Worth it if I can get some sleep." He reached their door and let himself silently back inside. Dean was just as he'd left him and he smiled; happy to have gotten back without him any the wiser. He shucked his shoes off and crawled back into his bed as he began to feel a comfortable sort of lassitude spreading through his arms and legs. He closed his eyes and huddled down into his pillow with a sigh.

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Dean woke with a start, unsure what exactly had pulled him from sleep. His hand slid under his pillow toward his knife when he heard a choking sound from the bed next to his.

"Sammy?" Dean rolled quickly, fumbling over to turn on the light as his gut told him something was wrong. He blinked against the glare and heard Sam gag again. "Sam?" He yanked the blanket back and fear sang through him as he saw that Sam was gagging on his own vomit and very much asleep. "Shit!" Dean hurriedly grabbed his arm and hip and rolled Sam to his side. He thumped Sam's back as vomit spewed out and down the side of the bed. Dean shifted his feet out of the way quickly and kept him on his side.

"Sam! Wake up, dammit!" Dean leaned in as the heaving eased and slapped Sam's face lightly once and then again more firmly. "Sam!" He watched Sam's eyes roll beneath his lids and let a small measure relief in when they cracked open. "Sammy?"

"Dean?" Sam's voice was small and hoarse. His throat burned and his chest hurt and he couldn't understand why Dean was standing over him with such a look on his face. "Wha…"

"Sam, you ok?" Dean pulled him up so he was sitting to get him away from the sick on the side of the bed.

Sam groaned. The movement made his head swim sickeningly as pain pounded through his skull like daggers to stab behind his eyes. "Gah." He dropped his head forward and felt bile climbing his throat again. "Dea…"

"Shit." Dean saw the signs and tugged his brother unsteadily to his feet, all but dragging him into the bathroom. He kicked up the lid on the toilet and lowered Sam down just another bout spewed from his brother into the bowl. "Damn, Sam. What the hell'd you eat?" He held Sam up from face-planting in the bowl while he threw up and when it stopped again he leaned him back to get a look at his face. "What's going on with you, dude?"

Sam shook his head and immediately regretted it as the pain rose to a new pitch. "Head. Hurts."

Dean reached over and turned on the sink, dunking a washcloth under the water before kneeling beside him. "You're a mess." He wiped Sam's face and tried not to panic at how sunken his eyes looked or the fact that even now his head was lolling forward, eyes closed again. "Sammy?"

"Mmm." Sam couldn't seem to keep his eyes open. He thought someone needed to stop breathing so heavily in his ear and distantly realized the sound was coming from him. He sounded strangled but that couldn't be right.

"Sam. You're freakin' me out here man." Dean leaned him back against his shoulder when Sam started wheezing. He palmed his forehead and frowned; there was no fever he could feel. Sam's breathing came harder as though he were working for every breath and his eyes were squinted shut against the obvious pain in his head. "Sam! You gotta talk to me or I'm gonna find a damn doctor that won't eat us long enough to check you out." He gave him a shake. "You hear me, Sam? Hospital."

Sam's head rolled toward him but that was the only response he got as his breathing worsened and became frighteningly shallow. "Shit. Ok, that's it." Dean stood and pulled Sam up with him. He didn't bother trying to convince him to walk. Whatever was wrong with him was well beyond that now. Dean tipped Sam over his shoulder and backed out of the bathroom. "Don't puke down my back, little brother."

Dean grabbed the car keys off the dresser as he went past and outside. Getting Sam in the car was a lot more difficult than he liked. Six feet four inches of sibling did not go easily into the small seat and he was panting with effort by the time he slid in behind the wheel. He gunned the engine and squealed around the building keeping one hand on Sam's chest. Dean lurched to a halt at the rental office and dashed out of the car and inside.

"Hey!" Dean tugged the arm of the young man behind the desk who looked at him with wide eyes. "There a clinic or something around here?"

"Huh? Oh yeah. Um." The kid looked out the window and pointed. "About six miles that way. West into town, third light. You sick?"

"No." Dean turned and opened the door. "My brother is." He didn't see the look on the kids face or the staring eyes that followed him out to the car and to Sam in the passenger seat.

"Ok, Sammy." Dean said as he got back in and got them moving. "Anytime you wanna wake up and tell me you're fine. I'm game." He looked over and barely managed to stop Sam's slide into him as he took a corner. "Crap." He ended up with Sam pulled in against his shoulder to keep him upright. So close he couldn't help but hear how labored his breathing was. "Don't do this to me, Sam." Dean pleaded softly. "Whatever's gone wrong this time, don't check out on me. Not after all this. You hear me?"

Sam moaned softly. He wanted to open his eyes and reassure Dean that he was alright but he couldn't do it. They weren't listening to him anymore than his lungs were. He hungered for a deep breath but could do more than gasp weakly through the weight that had settled on his chest. Each wracking breath speared into his skull and made tears leak from the corners of his eyes.

"Sam." Dean saw the shine of moisture on his brother's face as they passed under a streetlamp and cringed. "It's gonna be ok. Just hold on."

Dean nearly missed the little clinic as he sped through the small town. He spotted it at the last second and burned rubber making the turn. Only his grip around Sam's shoulders kept him from sliding into the window. He screeched to a stop at the front door and ran around the car to pull Sam out. "Come on, buddy." He pulled Sam over his shoulder again, grunting under the weight and carried him inside.

"Hey! I need some help here!" Dean shouted and immediately a nurse appeared. She was a pretty thing with short brown curls, flaxen skin and bright blue eyes. Her mouth became a round 'o' of surprise when she saw them. "Any time lady!"

"Here. Bring him over here." She lurched into action at his harsh tone and directed him toward a gurney set off to the side.

Dean laid Sam carefully down on it. "He's breathing funny. He was throwing up, complained about his head hurting." He ran a hand through his hair while the nurse checked his brother's pulse. "I woke up he was chokin' in his bed."

"No wonder you're not dressed then." The nurse said with a sideways glance at him.

Dean looked down in surprise and groaned. He was wearing sweat pants, no shirt and barefoot. He couldn't help the smirk. "Uh, kind of in a hurry." It faded quickly however as Sam coughed. "Uh oh. Look out." Dean rolled Sam to his side as he again started throwing up though there was nothing left in his stomach but bile to spatter out. "He'll say he's sorry for that when he's better."

"It's alright. Hang on to him for a second."

Dean watched her run back into the clinic and turned back to his brother. "Dude, hot nurse alert." He rubbed Sam's back as the heaves started to dwindle. "You're missing it."

A few moments later there was a flurry of activity as the nurse returned with a doctor in tow and they wheeled Sam out of the entry and back into the clinic. Dean followed along, keeping hold of Sam's hand and refused to stay back when they turned into a room. "I'm not leaving him. You do what you have to."

The doctor frowned, debating if he could bully the man into leaving and decided against it. There was a distinct aura of violence around him. "Alright. He's your brother?"

"Sam." Dean nodded. "I'm Dean. Look, what's wrong with him?"

"We'll know soon enough." The doctor stepped up to the bed and started taking Sam's vitals. "I'm Doctor Leery. Look. You can stay in the room but at least stand back and give us room to help him."

Dean grudgingly moved back a few feet against the wall but stayed within arm's reach. Short of splashing borax on the doctor and the hot nurse, he had no way to know if they were safe there.

"Has he eaten anything in the last few hours? Taken anything?" The doctor asked as he and the nurse began pulling Sam out of his clothes.

"No." Dean shook his head. "We've been sleeping for…I don't know, four hours or so. Skipped dinner."

The doctor nodded and pulled a sheet up over Sam to protect his dignity as they took his sweatpants off beneath it. "This looks like an allergic reaction to me." He told Dean. "Are you sure he hasn't had anything in the last four hours?"

"Yes, I'm sure. He's been friggin asleep!" Dean glared at him.

The nurse turned from where she'd been folding Sam's clothes and held out her hand. "Doctor?"

"Hmm?" The doctor turned and looked and then glanced up at Dean. "Where did he get this?"

"What?" Dean came forward to look in her hand and saw a small, six sided pink pill. "What the hell is that?" He looked over to his brother and frowned.

"It's Buprenorphine unless I'm mistaken. How many did he take?" Doctor Leery went back to the bed and fit an oxygen mask over Sam's face and then fired off orders to the nurse for various drugs before looking back to Dean, waiting.

"What? I didn't even know he had the damn things!" Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair. "What is it?"

"Typically? A drug used to help patients detoxing from something far worse. Among other things it's sleep inducing." He nodded to Sam. "Which explains why he's yet to wake up."

"Sleep inducing." Dean said softly and staggered back to the wall. "Son of a bitch." Now he knew why Sam had taken the drug. "Is he gonna be ok?" So I can kill him later, Dean added silently.

Doctor Leery nodded. "He'll be fine. It's actually quite hard to overdose on this particular drug." He smoothed the sheet over Sam's legs. "The allergic reaction, while rare, can be detrimental but it's easily dealt with."

Dean barely noticed when the nurse brought him a chair or when she gently took his bare shoulder and pushed him down into it. He managed a nod when she draped a warm blanket over his back but his eyes were on his brother on the bed. IV's ran from his arms, wires from under the stupid hospital gown they'd put him in and his heart beat out a steady cadence on the monitor beside his bed.

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Sam woke to gritty eyes that didn't want to open. His throat felt raw and his head tender and there was something irritating under his nose. He raised a hand to brush it away and jumped when it was caught in a firm grip.

"Leave it alone, Sam." Dean said softly, firmly and managed a small smile when Sam finally opened tired eyes to look at him.

"Dean?" Sam glanced around blearily and frowned. "Where are we?"

"Clinic." Dean pulled the chair over with a foot and sat; his smile turning to a glare. "You stupid son of a bitch. What the hell were you thinking?"

"What?" Sam stared at him in complete confusion. "Dean, what the hell's going on? Why are we in a clinic?"

"Drugs, Sam?" Dean leaned back and resisted the urge to take hold of Sam and shake him. "You're taking drugs now and hiding it from me? What the hell for? What's wrong with you?"

Sam's eyes opened wide in shock as Dean held up the little pill Sam had tucked in his pocket. "What happened?"

Dean gritted his teeth. "You had a damn allergic reaction to this crap." He leaned forward again and fixed a rage filled glare on him. "I woke up and you were chokin' in your damn sleep, Sam. You'd be dead if I hadn't woken up. You get that?"

Sam felt the blood drain from his face in fear. "Shit."

"Yeah." Dean sat back again, the urge to grab him and hurt him still too strong. "You wanna tell me how long this has been going on and what the hell they're for?" Dean crossed his arms. "And this better be damn good, Sam."

Sam sighed and closed his eyes. "I couldn't sleep."

"Bullshit." Dean said forcefully. "I've seen you sleep. Hell you slept for two damn days straight."

"I can't stay asleep." Sam said quietly. "I keep waking up." He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. "It's…it's too quiet." He looked over at Dean, willing him to understand.

"It's too quiet?" Dean glared and then leaned forward shaking his head sadly. He rubbed a hand through his hair in frustration.

Sam decided he had no choice; he may as well try to explain, hard as it was. "I keep expecting to hear him, Dean." He anxiously fiddled with the tube under his nose blowing oxygen at him. "Lucifer. I fall asleep and it's like…my mind can't accept he's not there anymore and…wakes me up." He sighed tiredly. "Every time."

"You didn't think this was something you should mention to me?" Dean stared at him; the hurt in his eyes plain to see. "After everything we've been through you still wanna keep secrets? When exactly are you planning on learning that particular lesson, Sammy?"

Sam flinched from the anger and the hurt but knew Dean didn't hate him. He'd called him Sammy. That made him smile slightly.

"Something you find funny about this?" Dean asked, seeing the lift at the corners of Sam's mouth. "Cause so far I haven't found a damn thing to laugh about."

Sam shook his head. "I'm sorry, Dean. I am." He looked forlornly over at his very angry, very disappointed brother. "I didn't think there'd be any harm and I just wanted one night, you know? One night where I didn't wake up."

"Well congratulations. You got that much." Dean rested his arms on the side of the bed. "It's tomorrow night, genius." Sam blinked in surprise. "Yeah, you've been out for twenty-four hours. I've had a hell of a time stopping the doctor here for turning you in for illicit drug use."

"Illicit… oh hell." Sam groaned. "Man, I'm sorry. I won't try it again. I swear, Dean. No more drugs." Sam meant it. He'd known it was a bad idea in the first place but he supposed with the lack of sleep he hadn't been thinking terribly clear to begin with.

"Damn right you won't." Dean flicked an imaginary fold from the sheet at Sam's side. "I ever catch you with a damn drug again, Sammy you'll be in a wheelchair for a month. I'll give you a reason to need 'em."

Sam smiled and then laughed lightly when Dean glared at him. "Ok." He looked around the room and back at Dean. "Can we get the hell out of here now?"

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. "Pain in my ass, Sammy. Pain in my ass." He stood though and nodded. "I was just waiting for you to grace me with your presence. Sit tight."

Sam watched him leave the room and thanked…well…whatever might be listening for Dean. Since his latest near death experience he had a newfound respect and affection for the brother that had literally pulled him from the brink of madness and death. He smirked. The brother who didn't throttle his idiot little brother no matter how stupid he occasionally got.

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Sam sighed gratefully as he sat on the edge of the bed. They were in a new motel. Dean had cleaned out their things and moved them once Sam was out of danger. He'd also commented that the night clerk wouldn't be selling anyone anything for a while and Sam didn't ask what he'd done to the kid. He didn't want to know really and felt a pang of sympathy for the poor guy.

"Go to sleep, Sam." Dean told him and pushed him down onto the bed, tugging the blanket up over his legs. "You gotta be tired still."

Sam nodded. "I am." He sighed though as he lay back and rolled, wrapping his arms around the pillow. He wasn't looking forward to yet another night of sleeping and waking, sleeping and waking and never staying asleep long enough to do him any good. He just had to hope that eventually his head would figure out that it was safe to sleep again and let him…someday.

Dean waited for him to close his eyes and flicked off the light by the bed. He picked up the remote and flipped the television on. He surfed around until he found a news channel and nodded, turning the volume up so the reporters voices droned through the room. He went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth; leaving the faucet running as he came back and climbed into bed.

"Dean?" Sam called softly.

"Yeah, Sammy." Dean flipped on his stomach and buried his face in the pillow.

Sam listened to the tv, the voices low but loud enough and to the faucet in the bathroom running full out like white noise in the background. He looked over to the flickering lump in the light from the tv that was his brother and was glad Dean didn't look at him. He'd never live down the grateful tears that escaped to run down his face.

"Nothing." Sam rolled away to hide his face and settled in, listening to the noise and letting it lull his tired mind to sleep.

"Night, Sammy." Dean said softly and smiled. Little idiot should have trusted his big brother to fix it in the first place, he thought to himself and snorted quietly as Sam's breathing evened out quickly into sleep…and stayed that way.

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_The End._


	22. For LadyBeryl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Info: For LadyBeryl: Dean insists that they both go to a dive bar in the town they are crashing in after a hunt when Sam just wants to sleep. Sam is a little hurt from the hunt. Bar patrons are not happy with outsiders and when Dean goes to take a leak or flirt with some girl (who he may not know is one of the bar patron's girls) they gang up on Sam and have some "fun". Sam fights well, but is overwhelmed and they dump him outside. Cue Dean finding him, maybe after roughing up or pulling a gun on the people in the bar to figure out where his brother is, and patching him up. Can add angst, fluff, etc. Not really picky on which season.
> 
> A/N: Set in Season 1 just because. :D After 1x04 "Phantom Traveler"

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Dean thumped his hands on the steering wheel in time with the music blasting from the radio and grinned happily. He glanced over at his brother, slouched down in the passenger seat and rolled his eyes. "Come on, Sammy. Crack a smile." He reached over and thumped his shoulder. "Your face won't break, I promise."

Sam groaned, irritated and gave him a dirty look. "Next time you can be the human tennis ball for a pissed off ghost." He shifted slightly to try and lessen the ache in his right shoulder and hip. The ghost had taken exception to them digging him up and done his level best to distract them by tossing Sam into the side of a mausoleum…three times.

"Suck it up, Sammy." Dean laughed, though not unkindly. He knew his brother had taken the beating, leaving him clear to finish the job but he was determined this was one night Sam wasn't going to spend brooding alone in a motel room. "Get a beer in you, you'll feel better."

"Aw, hey. Just drop me at the room." Sam asked sincerely. "I just wanna lay down man."

"No can do, Sammy." Dean grinned and nodded. "We're already here. No hermiting for you tonight." For one night he was going to do his best to make Sam let go of some of the depression that still clung to him since Jess' death. He took it as his duty as an awesome big brother to get Sam loaded and put a smile on his damn face for one night at least. Dean pulled into the bar parking lot and parked beside a row of motorcycles. "Come on, Cap'n cheerful."

Sam watched Dean head for the bar and then stop to stare and wait for him. "Dammit." He shook his head and got out, giving Dean a dirty look as he followed him to the door.

"Atta boy, Sam." Dean smirked and opened the door, waving Sam in ahead of him. "Couple a beers'll knock that stick loose." He chuckled, went in the door and stepped into Sam's back. "Dude, move."

Sam shook himself and moved further in toward the bar. As he'd come in every person in the bar had gone silent and turned to stare. He smiled generally around and most of them went back to their conversations while the jukebox blasted out something country.

Dean slid onto a stool beside his brother and grinned cheerfully at the bartender when she came their way. "Two beers please, gorgeous."

She raised a brow at Dean, un-amused and bent down quickly; she came back up and set two bottles on the counter with a little slap, popping the caps off. "You boys won't be staying long." She looked between them. "This aint your kinda bar." She walked away and left them staring after her.

"Wow." Dean shrugged it off and grabbed his beer, taking a grateful gulp. "Talk about a cold shoulder."

"Dean, maybe we should pick another bar." Sam said, noticing there were still several unfriendly glances being aimed at them. "Or just go back to the motel."

"No way, dude." Dean pushed Sam's beer at him. "One grumpy bar maid does not a good bar ruin."

"Don't think this qualifies as a good bar." Sam shook his head and took a sip of his beer. He sighed and then down half of it deciding maybe the alcohol would help numb the pain on his right side. As it was he was drinking with his left hand. His right shoulder was beginning to argue about lifting his arm as it stiffened.

"Have faith, Sam." Dean chugged his beer and set it back with a thump. "They'll warm up to us." He let his eyes wander over the attractive blonde heading up the bar toward them and grinned. "I'm definitely warming up to them." He smiled as she drew even with them. "Hello gorgeous."

Sam rolled his eyes and took another healthy drink of his beer, emptying it as Dean made a valiant effort to chat up the pretty blonde. He waved to the bartender, held up his beer and two fingers. She gave him a nod.

"Damn, do I smell funny tonight?" Dean turned and asked as the blonde went on her way. "Wouldn't even give me her name."

Sam chuckled. "You always smell funny dude."

"Shut up." Dean tried his best smile on the bartender again when she dropped off the fresh beers and got only a glare in return. "Ok. Maybe you're right. This bar is not exactly visitor friendly."

"That mean we can go now?" Sam asked hopefully.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Drink your beer." He looked around the bar and spotted a pool table in the back. "Lemme go drain off a few liters and I'm gonna thump your ass at pool."

Sam watched him go and dropped his head, tired and sore enough to actually consider walking back to the motel. He smirked. Dean would no doubt hunt him down and make him pay for it so he drank his beer instead, resigned to a long night of losing pool. He lurched forward as someone slapped into his back, nearly planting his head on the bar.

"Hey!" Sam turned around and found three burly men standing behind him; their faces anything but apologetic.

"Don't appreciate strangers comin' in here and makin' eyes at my girl." The largest of the three men glared down at Sam on his stool. "I'm thinkin' someone needs to teach you a lesson."

"Your girl?" Sam asked and then saw the blonde Dean had hit on beyond them with a smug look on her face. "Uh, look. We didn't know. Won't happen again."

"Damn right it won't." The man said meaningfully and cracked his knuckles.

"Ok." Sam stood and took a small amount of pleasure in the fleeting surprise on the men's faces when he rose above them by several inches. "There's been a misunderstanding here. We can talk about this."

The man snarled, his moment of concern gone. "Think we've had enough talk."

Sam ducked the first punch and knocked the fist away. He snapped his leg out into the groin of the man on his right and took him to his knees. He turned to the other two men and saw another fist driving his way. He stepped into the burly biker and slammed his elbow to the side of his head. The man's eyes rolled back as he dropped and Sam thought he might come out of this without a scratch. A moment later he took that back as four more men, all bikers in leather dove into the fray. He opened his mouth to shout for Dean and grunted as meaty hand hit the side of his head with what felt like a bottle.

Dean washed his hands and then washed them again. The state of the bathroom had words like tetanus swirling through his head and he was pretty sure he'd seen some roaches holding court when he'd walked in. He knocked the faucet off with his elbow and decided Sam was right; they needed to find a different watering hole. He wasn't getting a good vibe from this place, not to mention the completely disinterested women. He snorted at himself in the mirror and went out.

"Hey, asshole."

Dean let the bathroom door hit him in the back as it closed. A very large, ridiculously muscled biker stood invading his personal space and Dean's eyes narrowed at the brass knuckles adoring his right hand.

"We gonna have a problem, chief?" Dean glared at him. They were even in height but the paunch hanging over the man's belt told Dean he'd still have the upper hand if he struck hard.

"You insulted my buddy's girl." Biker guy took another step closer, his stale beer breath making Dean's eyes water. "He's pissed."

"I'm crushed." Dean sneered. He didn't wait for him to move first. Dean struck out, driving his knuckled into the base of the man's throat. When he choked out a breath, eyes bulging, Dean took hold of his fist and slammed the man's own brass knuckles into the side of his head. The biker slid gracelessly to the floor in a heap and Dean dusted off his hands. "Time to leave."

He walked down the long hall quickly and stepped back out into the bar. Dean's eyes narrowed dangerously. There was no sign of Sam where he'd left him, broken glass on the floor and a wall of angry bikers waiting for him. Like that his patience and good humor snapped. The men started moving toward him and Dean reached to his back, pulling out the desert eagle pistol he kept there. He cocked and aimed it at the largest of the men, holding it level with eyes. They stopped as one, staring in shock.

"I'm gonna ask once." Dean said in a low, dangerous voice. "Where's my brother?" He lowered the gun to aim at the biker's left knee and waited. Several of the men raised their hands and backed away, easing around the bar and out of sight; unwilling to get shot by the irate stranger.

"We took out the trash." The man Dean was aiming at said angrily.

Dean rolled his head, cracking the tension out of his neck and fired a shot, grazing the side of the biker's right thigh; sending him to the floor howling. "I'm gonna walk outta here." Dean took fresh aim at the two men who started forward only to stumble to a stop, wide-eyed. "And if my brother's anything but alive and pissed I'll be back and the next shot's gonna send one you asshole's into the ground." He walked steadily toward them, gun even at their heads. "Oh stop whining you pussy." He told the biker on the floor as he passed. "It's just a graze."

Dean backed out of the bar, letting the door shut on their faces and put his gun away as he turned to the parking lot. "Sam?" He called and looked around. The biker's comment that they had 'taken out the trash' drew Dean toward the dumpsters at the side of the parking lot. He walked around them and froze. "Sammy!" Dean slid to his knees beside Sam's unmoving form. He lay on his back and the sputtering street light above outlined the blood on his face starkly. More disturbing was the small pool of blood beneath his head.

Dean took Sam's face in his hands and grimaced. "Geez, Sam. They did a number on you. Come on, buddy. Sam. Wake up." He squashed the fear that bubbled up, seeing him so still and covered in blood. He gave his cheek a couple light slaps, needing him to move. Sam groaned softly and Dean smiled. "That's it, Sammy. Eyes open already." Sam's hazel eyes fluttered open, rolling a few times before focusing and Dean sighed in relief. "Hey buddy."

"Dean." Sam scrunched his eyes shut and worked his tongue around his mouth, trying to swallow. "Wha…where?"

Dean smirked. "You got jumped by Road Warrior extras and dumped outside." He frowned. "Hey, look at me, Sam." His brother's eyes opened again and seemed to have trouble focusing as Dean studied his pupils. "Looks like you're the proud recipient of a concussion."

"Noticed." Sam muttered. He tried to push himself up and scowled when it didn't work. The hard pavement seemed to spin beneath him and he looked up at both of his brothers.

"Ok , buddy. Let's get you up." Dean tried not to chuckle when Sam went cross-eyed. "Just…let me do the work, ok?" He pulled Sam up with his jacket and held on to him when he tipped forward into his chest, head thumping into his shoulder. "Just make it to the car, ok?"

Sam nodded weakly and tried to help as Dean pulled him to his feet. He clapped a hand to the side of his pounding head, startling at the feel of wet hair beneath his hand. He dropped it down to look and stared at his hand covered in blood. "Dean?"

"Yeah, it's ok, Sammy." Dean nodded. "Get ya cleaned up at the motel. Come on. Left foot, right foot kiddo."

"Think…bruised ribs maybe." Sam stumbled and wheezed a breath as his chest pulled. He felt Dean tense as they passed the front door of the bar and didn't relax until they passed it. "We ok?"

"Yep." Dean said firmly as they reached the Impala.

"Crap." Sam felt bile creeping up his throat as the world did another dizzying spin. He turned away from their car and pitched forward.

"Shit!" Dean wrapped an arm around his waist and held Sam up as he spewed his beer and dinner all over the shiny, black Harley beside the Impala. "Nice shot, Sammy." Dean chuckled. "Whoa." He had to make a grab as Sam suddenly went boneless in his grasp. "Hey, hey. You still with me?" Dean put Sam against the car and straightened him up, turning his face up. "Dude, your breath reeks."

"Think they're gonna…gon'be pissed." Sam wrapped a hand around his head again.

"Hope so." Dean pulled open the passenger door and wrangled Sam into the seat. He shut the door and ran around to the driver's side with a last glance at the bike Sam had christened. He laughed and got it. They peeled out of the parking lot as the first siren sounded in the distance.

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Dean opened the motel room door with one hand and steered Sam's swaying figure inside, hip-checking the door shut as they went. "Almost there, buddy." Sam listed against him, knees folding and then stiffening as he tried to keep his feet. Dean got him to the far bed and let him down easy.

Sam groaned in relief and tried to fall sideways into his pillow, growling when Dean stopped him. "Tired."

"I know but I gotta check this head wound first." Dean tugged him back upright.

Sam gave a stuttering nod and fumbled to get his jacket off while Dean bent his head forward. "S'beer bottle. I think." He cringed working the jacket off his right arm as pain pulled across his chest at the same moment Dean found the gash on his head. "Gah." Stars exploded through his vision. He heard Dean curse and felt arms catching him as he fell.

"Sorry. Sorry, Sammy." Dean grunted and caught his brother's considerable weight as he dove head first for the floor. "This was easier…when you were…twelve." He muscled Sam's bulk back to the bed and laid him down. "Sammy?" He leaned over, palming the side of his brother's face.

"S…sorry." Sam mumbled and hoped he'd pass out soon just to escape the agony in his skull.

"Ok you're starting to worry me here, dude." Dean sat beside him and finished pulling his jacket off his arm. The gash on the side of his head was bad enough it was still bleeding; even now staining the pillow under his head. It was going to have to be stitched closed. He pulled Sam's shirt up gently and anger washed through him. Over the right side of his ribs was the perfect impression of a set of brass knuckles. "Son of a bitch." Dean wished he'd hurt the bastard more before dropping him outside the bathroom. He pressed carefully around the bruise and felt the distinctive give where there shouldn't be any.

"Damn." Dean leaned back and squeezed Sam's shoulder when he moaned. "Sorry buddy. Gotta do it."

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Sam woke slowly, slightly confused when his head didn't scream pain at him. He blinked his eyes open and found Dean staring down at him with concern on his face. "Dean?"

"Mornin', Sammy." Dean smiled and leaned back so Sam could focus on his face. "How you feeling?"

Sam spent a minute cataloguing the aches and pains and gave a lopsided shrug. "Ok. Ribs are sore." He raised a hand to his head and frowned. "What?" He stared at the IV line attached to the back of his hand and then really looked around. "I'm in a hospital?"

Dean nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. "Two cracked ribs and a minor skull fracture." He glared down for a second. "Those bastards damn near took you out, Sam." He opted not to tell Sam how he'd stopped breathing in the car on the way and that he'd clipped a parked ambulance getting him into the emergency room. The dent in his baby's fender was worth it to have him awake, breathing and lucid enough to stare in surprise.

"Don't really remember." Sam said finally and laid his head back, closing his eyes. "Kinda remember the bar." He frowned and squinted his eyes open again. "Did I puke on a motorcycle?"

Dean chuckled and nodded. "All over the seat. It was a thing of beauty." He sobered and rested a hand on Sam's shoulder as his eyes closed again. "Sam, I'm sorry." He'd been circling around the guilt for two days waiting for Sam to wake up again. He'd made him go into the damn bar and then hit on the obviously uninterested blonde despite the dirty looks he'd clearly seen. "This is my fault."

Sam shook his head carefully. "No it's not." He made himself open his eyes even though sleep was pulling at him again and shook his head in disagreement. "Not your fault. Guys were assholes."

"Thought you didn't remember?" Dean asked, raising his brows. He put a hand to the side of Sam's head when he paled. "Don't move your head too much dude." He waited until the pain eased from Sam's face. "Your melon's still cracked, pal."

Sam got a hand up to his head, eyes widening as he felt the bandage wrapped around it. "Dean." He looked fearfully up to his brother. "Tell me they didn't shave my head." He couldn't feel his hair under the bandage.

Dean stared, snorted, smirked; he tried to swallow the laugh at Sam's look of horror and finally gave up. "Oh man your face." He laughed aloud and easily caught the weak punch Sam aimed at him. "Just that one spot. It'll grow back…eventually."

"Oh my god." Sam closed his eyes and groaned.

"Doesn't look that bad." Dean couldn't quite stop the laughter from coming out in chuckles at the disgusted look on Sam's face. "You'll be wowing the girls again in no time, little brother." He let go of his head and patted his shoulder. "Go back to sleep, patches."

Sam glared up at him. "Shut up, jerk."

Dean snorted another laugh and eased off the bed and back into his chair. "Bitch." He settled back to watch over Sam again. He smirked at the bitch-face thrown his way before Sam's eyes closed in spite of himself. He let the smile fall away and scrubbed a hand over his face. The first night when Sam wouldn't wake up he'd left their Dad a message in the vain hope one of his sons in critical condition would make him finally break his silence. It hadn't. He looked back up to Sam's still too pale face and leaned over to rest his hand on his shoulder for the hundredth time while he slept. The only response from their Dad had been a new set of co-ordinates yesterday evening. Dean scowled down at the bed. He'd left his father a terse message in response telling him he was cracked if he thought Dean was leaving Sam in a damn hospital by himself for a job.

"Right here, Sammy." Dean said softly when Sam moaned and stirred in the grip of some dream. His voice had the desired effect. Sam stilled, face easing into peace again and Dean smiled. He glanced over to the television in the corner of the room and his smile grew. Though the sound was muted, the image on the screen was of a familiar, seedy little dive bar on the edge of town. The caption at the bottom of the screen declared that an unknown vandal had slashed the tires of some twenty motorcycles in the night. He chuckled and squeezed Sam's shoulder. "Wait til they get to the part where they found some guy stuffed in the dumpster with his own brass knuckles in his mouth." Dean whispered to his brother and sat back. Dean knew that particular biker was downstairs somewhere bemoaning the loss of most of his teeth. Dean was only upset he'd missed a few.

Dean leaned back in the chair and put his feet up on the edge of Sam's bed, clasping his hands behind his head with a satisfied smile.

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_The End._


	23. For K Hanna Korossy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Info: For K Hanna Korossy – I'd like to see a fic with the title "Don't sigh, Eat Pie" however you interpret that, as long as there's some angst and a happy ending.
> 
> A/N: I hope this one is everything you hope for hon! You've certainly waited long enough thanks to my lapse in memory. Lol I apologize for losing track of your prompt and making you wait until the end. :D
> 
> This is set in Season 4. Post 4x10 "Heaven and Hell": A little trip down PTSD lane for Dean.

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" **Don't sigh. Eat pie."**

Sam followed his brother through the meat packing plant and kept a watchful eye on him. He knew Dean thought he was fooling him; that Sam wasn't aware he was waking each night with dreams of his time in Hell and Sam rolled his eyes. As if he wouldn't notice his big brother suffering. Dean looked ragged. He was pale with dark circles under green eyes gone dull with having seen too much. Sam didn't like it. Dean wasn't supposed to look that way; defeated.

"Pick it up, Sammy." Dean called back and looked over his shoulder to find Sam watching him. He scowled and looked away. Sam was doing a lot of that recently and it was getting damn irritating. He sighed. It didn't matter and they had a job to do. He swung his light through the room; there wasn't much to see. The meat packing plant had been empty a long time. There were a few tables here and there, some empty barrels but not much else. The ghost had injured one security guard and killed his replacement. The cops had found the body eviscerated.

"He has to know we're here by now." Sam commented and scanned along the high ceiling. His research pointed to the spirit of a long dead employee who'd supposedly fallen into a meat grinder. Sam had read through the witness statements and he was fairly sure the guy had been 'helped' over the side by one of his co-workers. It would certainly explain why he was here and violent. His remains, what there were of them, had been cremated after his death and Dean had surmised that some of him must be left in the machine. Sam hefted the bag on his shoulder, adjusting the weight. He was carrying Dean's homemade equivalent of Napalm; they were going to melt the sucker down and take care of one David Browser permanently.

"Through there I think." Dean pointed to a set of doors ahead of them with his shotgun. A sudden gust of cold air blew across them. At the same moment, the EMF meter in Dean's pocket whined to life. He and Sam both stopped and raised their guns, waiting. "Took him long enough."

Sam nodded and looked up. "Dean!" He shouted and raised his own gun, firing into the shimmering form of the spirit feet above his brother's head.

Dean ducked his head to avoid the rock salt. "Let's find this thing and fry this sucker." He strode to the doors, pushed them open and stepped inside.

Sam followed quickly behind and nearly thumped into Dean's back. He'd stopped just inside the door. "Dean? What is it?" Sam came around his side and raised his light. Dean's face was even paler than before with his eyes opened wide in what Sam would have bet was fear. He shined his light out into the room. Row upon row of chains hung from the ceiling, most of them dangling disused meat hooks and hanging at eye level. Even without hanging carcasses it was still a macabre sight. Dean had yet to move and Sam frowned with worry.

"Dean? Hey, it's ok." Sam put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. He had a fairly good idea that the chains and hooks had forcibly reminded his brother of some part of his time in Hell. The distant, nearly blank look on his face said he was there still and hadn't even registered Sam touching him. "Dean." Sam moved so he was in front of him; between him and the chains. "Dean. Come back." Dean's eyes slowly came back into focus to look at him and Sam felt a piece of his heart break. "Look. You wait here. Watch my back. I'll go."

Dean stared at him and then over his shoulder to the stuff of his nightmares and tried to bring reality back into focus. He could hear them in his head; the sound, the clinking. He could almost feel those hooks dug into his flesh as they had been for so many years and feel the links of the chain wrapping around him.

"Dean!" Sam took his shoulders in a firm grip and gave him a shake. "Snap out of it!" He was scared now. How did anyone even begin to deal with the post-traumatic stress of having been trapped in Hell? He could feel Dean trembling beneath his hands and saw the cold sweat that had broken out across his brow. "Ok, that's it. We're going back." He pushed Dean back a few steps through the door but his brother stopped.

"No. No." Dean closed his eyes on the nightmarish vision before him with effort. "I'm ok."

"Bullshit." Sam said fervently and tried to move him again without success. "We can come back. Better yet, you go wait in the car. I'll finish this."

Dean's head snapped up. "No way in hell, Sammy." That brought him out of it. No way was he leaving his brother to deal with the ghost alone while he wallowed in his issues. He was not going to leave Sam without backup; not because of this. "I'm good. Let's just…finish this and get the hell out of here." Dean made himself walk past Sam into the room and face the chains. This time, he steeled himself for the sight and ruthlessly crushed the memories that swam up to meet him.

"Dean." Sam said softly and shook his head. He knew Dean wouldn't talk about it so there was little point in trying to make him. "Alright." He followed closely, never more than an arm's length away. The chains swung and clinked as they passed through them. Each time they sounded, Sam saw Dean flinch. He had to restrain the urge to simply knock Dean out and drag him away to protect him. He'd never be forgiven he knew, but it sounded more and more like a good idea. If anything Dean was translucent now. Facing whatever memories the chains had brought up was costing him.

Dean was fighting the urge to rub madly at his arms and legs; anything to make the feel of being wrapped in those chains go away. He could feel them biting into his skin, into the meat below the skin, feel them pulling and tugging and the agony whited his vision. "Shit." He breathed softly and shook his head. He needed to do better than this. The temperature took another nose dive, the meter in his pocket screaming back to life and he saw the ghost materialize beyond the chains with fury on its face. He swung the shotgun up and blasted rock salt through the dead man. The sound was familiar and comforting and he used it to ground him as he passed quickly through the rest of the chains. He felt Sam's hand briefly on his shoulder to let him know he was there and pushed through the next set of doors.

"Yahtzee." Dean said softly. The room was empty save for a couple tables, some overturned chairs and in the center a massive, industrial meat grinder standing six feet tall.

Sam looked up to the catwalk above it and shook his head. "Hell of a way to go."

"Let's do this." Dean urged. He was ready to be done with this job and gone.

"On it." Sam shed the duffel on the floor and pulled out the salt canister then frowned. "Hang on." He jogged to the side of the room and a ladder and started climbing.

"Sammy, what the hell are you doing?" Dean watched and growled at him.

"I need to get the salt inside. That's where the…uh…remains will be." Sam climbed out on the catwalk and followed it until he was standing above the grinder. Looking down into the maw of the thing and the blades resting silently inside he shivered in sympathy. "Poor sucker."

"Hurry it up!" Dean yelled as the EMF meter in his pocket began to whine again. "Casper's coming back."

Sam unscrewed the cap on the can and upended it, letting the salt fall down into the machine. It sounded like rain falling as the grains poured into the blades and gears. He watched Dean pull the juiced up Molotov cocktails from the duffel. His homemade napalm would make sure the machine melted into a puddle and any biological matter trapped inside wouldn't survive. The mixture was so volatile no fuse was required; only contact with air.

Dean hefted one of the bottles and looked up. "Move it, Sam!"

"Done!" Sam shouted back down and tossed the can over the side to land on the floor. "Light it up!"

Dean tossed the first bottle up and into the mouth of the machine above. He heard the glass shatter and a second later flames climbed up into the semi-darkness, sending shadows to dance along the ceiling. He rolled the second under the base where it cracked and more flame pooled out like liquid under the heavy metal. His head jerked up at a sudden shout from Sam and could only watch as his brother was propelled over the railing toward the inferno below.

"Sam!"

Sam felt the air go cold in spite of the heat from below and turned a second too late. The ghost was behind him. He felt a burst of air hit his chest and then he was flying over backwards. He shouted in surprise. Sam stretched his arm out, empty hand reaching and managed to wrap his fingers around the railing at the last second. The jerk almost pulled him loose but he held on, determined not to end up the flames he could feel licking at his feet. The ghost hovered above him, glaring down. He still held his shotgun and swung his free arm up. Sam fired at the same moment a second shout sounded from below. The double blast of rock salt hit the spirit at the same moment it burst into flames and he vanished with a scream.

"Crap." Sam gasped. He tossed the shotgun onto the catwalk and grasped the rail with both hands.

"Sam?" Dean yelled. "Stop screwin' around and get down here!"

Sam smiled. That sounded more like Dean should. "Working on it!" He pulled himself up, grabbed the shotgun and jogged away from the burning heat. The meat grinder was engulfed completely and beginning to lose its shape. Sam reached the ladder and dropped next to it. His feet felt like they were on fire.

"What the hell are you doing up there?" Dean appeared at the bottom of the ladder, looking up.

"Hang on." Sam pulled his left foot up and grimaced. The sneaker was mostly melted from the heat and scalded his fingers as he worked it off his foot. "Head's up!" He dropped the shoe and quickly took the other one off as well before climbing gingerly back down to his brother.

Dean waited for him to reach the bottom and slapped his shoulder. "You good?"

Sam nodded and smiled. "Feet got a little singed. Let's go." He wanted to get Dean out of there and took his arm to stop him when he headed for the meat hook room. "Another door back there. I saw it from above. Come on." It was his tacit way of offering Dean a way out that didn't involve his nightmare.

Dean wavered for a moment, considering whether his pride could take the hit and decided it could. He nodded. "You want those?" He asked, smirking as he pointed to the crisped lumps that had been Sam's sneakers.

"What? You want a souvenir?" Sam gave him a shove wide around the blazing grinder.

Dean went ahead, ridiculously relieved not to have to walk back through the chains and hated himself a little for the weakness. All he wanted now was a stiff drink to help drown the memories back where they belonged.

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Sam came out of the bathroom. His feet felt slightly better from the borderline cold shower he'd taken to soothe them. Dean was where he'd left him; plopped on the uncomfortable little couch with his feet up and three beers of a six pack beside him.

"You doing ok?" Sam asked and flinched at the hard, miserable look Dean shot him.

"Don't start, Sam." Dean said and turned his attention back to the television. He was not in the mood for Sam picking at him for a heart to heart. He needed to forget, not relive. "I'm fine."

"Right." Sam opened his mouth and then thought better of it. He nodded and pulled a fresh shirt on instead. He could see the tension in Dean's shoulders and practically see the misery pouring off of him. Every instinct told him to make Dean talk about it; get it out and deal with it but he knew that wasn't going to work, especially with Dean's mood as dark as it now was. He racked his mind for something he could do to lighten his brother's load. There had to be something.

"Stop staring holes in the back of my head, Sam." Dean warned without turning around. "I can hear you thinking."

Sam snorted. "I wasn't thinking anything except maybe food." He sighed, realizing he had no shoes and pulled over Dean's discarded boots. They'd be tight but they'd serve long enough for him to buy a new pair of shoes for himself. "You hungry?"

Dean raised a beer from the couch. "I'm good."

Sam scowled at the back of his head. "I'll bring something back anyway." He got no more than a grunt in response and shook his head as he went to the door. "I'll find something you want."

"Whatever." Came Dean's irritated response. He heaved a sigh as the door closed in relief at being left alone. He sucked down half the beer in his hand and set it aside with a thump. It wasn't helping. It wasn't strong enough and they were fresh out of Whiskey. He kicked himself for not telling Sam to pick up a bottle and then rolled his eyes. Telling Sam that would have meant another round with his bitch face about the drinking. "Not worth it." He decided. Dean looked back at the TV and flinched as the image on the screen shimmered and changed, crawling with flames. He blinked furiously and the image went away.

"Dammit." He said softly and stood. He paced around the small room and ended up at the door. He opened it and stood staring out into the night. He let the cool air wash over him and was almost calmed until he heard the sound of tinkling metal. It was far too close to the sound of lightly jangling chains. His eyes whipped over and saw the wind chimes hanging a few doors down. He went back in the room and slammed the door shut. Hell it seemed wasn't ready to leave him alone just yet.

"Son of a bitch." Dean glared around the room and then headed for the bathroom. Maybe a shower would give him some small measure of relief. He stripped and turned the water on as hot as he could take it. Dean spent a good ten minutes with his arms braced on the wall letting the scalding water beat the stress out of his shoulders. He let his head drop forward, exhausted with the hunt and fighting the horror in his head at the same time.

Dean was listening to the sound of the water, like white noise and looked up as he heard the toilet next door flush. He had a moment to realize what that would do to his shower and then the water turned to ice. "Shit!" He shouted as the suddenly freezing water cascaded over him. He yelled in sheer distress as the cold drove his mind back. Hell was not brimstone and fire, not always. There was soul chilling cold that seared the skin, the mind…every part of you.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the flood of memory and realized he was pressed against the back wall of the shower, near hyperventilating and the water was steaming once more. "Dammit." He gasped and warily stepped back under the spray. He turned the knob and drove the temperature up a little more. Once the chill left his skin he turned it off and got out. He dried off as quickly as he could and got dressed again. Sam was still not back when he came out so he rubbed his hands briskly up and down and his arms to warm them. He could still feel the cold.

"Ok, maybe alone wasn't such a good idea." Dean said softly and dropped heavily onto the couch. He emptied the beer he'd left and opened the other. It took an obscene amount of will power to resist the urge to simply curl up in a ball and sob until Sam returned. He clenched his teeth together. "Do better dammit."

He heard the distinctive sound of the Impala's engine and couldn't hold back the small sigh of relief that he wouldn't be alone anymore. "Pathetic, Dean." He told himself and then schooled his features to calm as he heard the door open. "Took you long enough."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Took me a while to find a few things." He dropped Dean's boots beside his bed and kicked off the new sneakers he'd found cheap in the grocery store. "Got food." He told his brother and went to the table, setting the heavy bag down. "Come on." Sam went over and lightly thumped his brother's shoulder.

"I'll look later." Dean said and pulled over another beer.

"Nope. Now." Sam snagged the beer from his hand and backed up as Dean rose angrily. He smiled. "Trust me. You want to eat." It had taken him three stores to find what he wanted and he wasn't about to be foiled by Dean's bad mood.

"Sam, I will kick your ass." Dean glared at him.

"Just sit at the damn table." Sam set his beer down beside the bag and crossed his arms, waiting. "Please? Humor me."

Dean growled but gave in. He plopped into a chair. "Fine. What?"

"Ball of fun you are." Sam said ruefully and started digging in the bag. He set a couple paper plates on the table along with plastic forks. He gave a glance at the dark expression on Dean's face and then took out the first container, setting it in front of him. He smiled as he saw Dean's eyes slide from depression into surprise. Satisfied he'd made the right decision, Sam emptied the bag setting three more containers on the table and stood back to admire his handiwork as Dean stared and slowly began to smile.

"Dinner of champions." Sam said softly. He chuckled. Four pies; Apple, Blueberry, Cherry and one Boysenberry sat before his big brother. It had been the one thing he could think of to put a smile on Dean's face and help lighten his mood. Pie could always find the chinks in Dean's bad moods when little else worked.

Dean sat in awe and watched as Sam popped the lids off the pies and started adding a slice of each to a plate one at a time. He could feel himself grinning and emotion over-whelmed him; relief, love for his little brother who would think of this. He looked up to Sam's smiling face as his throat choked up and his eyes treacherously filled with moisture.

"Thanks, Sammy." Dean said in a voice gone hoarse with emotion.

Sam only nodded and pushed the pie laded plate over to him. He cut a couple slices for himself and grabbed another beer before he sat down across from his brother and opened it. "Bottoms up, dude."

Dean took up his beer and clinked the can against Sam's. He didn't say anything. He didn't trust himself to speak without the barely repressed emotion pouring out. He took a bite of one of the pies and let the flavors take over his mouth and senses. He let the old love of pie and familiarity and Sam's presence wash over him and do what the beer, the fresh air and the shower had not been able too. For the moment at least, he felt at peace; safe.

Sam smiled smugly and dove into a slice of pie. He'd have preferred something healthier but Dean needed this. He'd run it off tomorrow. For tonight, it was pie and beer and later he'd pull out the cheap copy of Die Hard 3 he'd found. He couldn't take away the pain but he could do his best to cover it over for a little while at least. The grateful smile on his big brother's face told him he'd made the right choice.

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_The End._


	24. For threedays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Info: For threedays - I would love a Weechester fic in which the boys, despite the many frightening things they've seen, get themselves totally freaked out by a scary book or movie - better yet, a KIDS' book or movie.
> 
> A/N: Okay. The boys are 10 and 14 respectively. A year's worth of training and introduction to monsters for our young Sammy and Dean still a few years shy of being jaded. :D Also, I chose the movie I did because A: It was the right time period for them and B: How could I possibly resist the symmetry? I mean really. Lol
> 
> …not to mention "Something wicked this way comes" is just a creepy damn kids movie. :P

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Dean stopped the movie as the credits rolled and re-thought his genius plan of 'lifting' it from the shelf at the store. "Something wicked this way comes" had sounded like a great idea at the time. Sam was finally old enough for him to start introducing him to scary movies but he hadn't expected a stupid Disney movie to be that creepy. Sam, somewhere around the freaky carousel had crawled half into his lap and watched the rest of the movie from under Dean's arm where it draped across his chest. He'd expected Sam to be a little creeped out but hadn't planned on being nervous himself.

"You ok there, Sammy?" Dean gave him a little shake and Sam turned wide, hazel eyes up to him.

"Wasn't scary." Sam said and smiled. He was determined to not be a baby about a movie; not in front of Dean. "That was cool."

Dean grinned and ruffled his dark hair. "Yeah, that was pretty good." He looked over at the clock. "You hungry?" Sam gave him a nod. "Go get your jammies on then, midget." He shoved Sam off his lap with a laugh and stood and stretched. If he turned on more lights than he needed on his way to the kitchen, he blamed it on needing it to cook; certainly not to banish a lingering nervousness from the movie. He wasn't a kid for crying out loud. He banged around the kitchen heating up spaghettios and ignored the way he flinched when his own reflection in the grimy window startled him.

"Sheesh." Dean shook his head and chuckled at himself. "No more Disney movies." Once the spaghettios were bubbling, he dumped them in a bowl and set it on the table. He looked around with a frown; Sam had yet to come back out. "Sammy?" Dean went quickly down the hall and looked in the bathroom. The light was on but it was empty. He flipped it off and went down the hall to their bedroom. He stuck his head in the door and stared.

Sam sat on top of his bed with an open box of ammunition and a penknife. "Sammy, what're you doing?" Dean went into the room and over to the bed.

Sam looked up seriously. "I gotta make us safe, Dean."

Dean took one of the bullets loose on the blanket and looked at. His mouth opened, closed and he swallowed a laugh. There was a tiny smiley face carved into the casing; just like they'd seen in the movie. "Holy crap, Sammy." Dean shook his head. "Dad is gonna freak!"

"But it's almost three in the morning." Sam looked up so serious and verging on scared. His voice dropped softly. "You remember what Mr. Halloway said. Soul's midnight."

"Sammy." Dean sat beside him on the bed and wrapped an arm over his shoulders. "It was just a movie, dude. Not all the weird stuff is, you know, real."

"Yeah but a lot of it is." Sam set down the bullet and grabbed another, bending to his task. "Wendigos and ghosts and witches and we don't know, maybe there is haunted carnival out there. It could be real." He carefully carved the smiley face and handed it to Dean. "You and Dad told me; half of everything in myth and legend is real, just people don't understand." He sidled closer to Dean. "So why not this?"

"Crap." Dean squeezed his shoulders as much for him as himself because he didn't have a good answer. Sam was right. Who was he to say Ray Bradbury wasn't writing truth as fiction like so many other writers over the years. He smiled down at him in an attempt to hide his own nervousness.

"I'm…I'm kinda scared." Sam whispered.

"Well now I am too." Dean rolled his eyes. "Ok. Look. You gotta eat."

"Not hungry." Sam picked up another bullet and groaned when Dean took it away from him.

"Food and then bed. Dad's gonna kill me he finds you up this late." Dean gathered up the bullets, dumping them in a pile in the box. "Come on, midget." He pulled Sam off the bed with him and pushed him out the door ahead of him and down the hall into the kitchen. "Go on." He sent Sam off to the table and detoured to drop the box of bullets on the coffee table. He was going to have fun trying to explain that to Dad, he thought, as he looked down at the tiny happy faces staring back up. "Oh boy."

"Dean?" Sam called him as he hunched over his bowl of spaghettios. "When's Dad gonna be home?"

"Tonight." Dean came over and sat down next to him. "Promise. He said so."

Sam sighed and went back to his bowl. He ate a bite and reached his other hand over to pick up the golden amulet hanging around Dean's neck and then let it fall back with a thump. He looked up at Dean meaningfully but said nothing. It was a tacit reminder that their Dad didn't always do what he promised and that Dean was the only one he trusted to always be there.

Dean rolled his eyes and dropped a hand to the back of Sam's neck and gave it a squeeze. "I know, kiddo but he really will this time." He sat companionably with Sam while he ate and tried to ignore the sound of something scrabbling in the trashcan outside. Sam hadn't noticed it yet and he wasn't going to point it out. It was making his own nerves crawl. He smirked at Sam who had propped an elbow on the table and then his head in his hand and whose eyes were currently at half-mast.

"Ok, tiger. Bed." Dean pulled him up unresisting and steered him back down the hall to the bedroom.

"Can we um…leave the lights on?" Sam asked as he crawled up into his bed. "I mean, not cause I'm like scared or anything." He said quickly. "Just cause…if Dad does come home he needs to see…and stuff."

Dean smothered a chuckled and pulled the blanket over him. "Yeah, dude. We can leave 'em on." He ruffled his brother's hair. "Night Sammy."

"Wait!" Sam sat up as Dean headed for the door. "Aren't you, I mean…you should go to bed too."

Dean turned back and looked at the longing face and sighed. "I'll be right back, ok? I gotta brush my teeth."

Sam nodded and shoved himself back down under the blanket. "Ok."

Dean shook his head, amused and went back to the kitchen. He washed out Sam's bowl and put it in the drainer. He jumped clear off the floor as something rattled the kitchen window.

"Crap!" He scrambled away and scooped the shotgun their Dad had left from its place by the door. He spun, aiming at the window as his nerves sang with tension. He made himself step closer to the window and jumped again. He lowered the gun with a disgusted groan. "A friggin bat?" He slapped a hand over his face and took a deep breath. "Never watching a Disney movie again." He put the gun back and heaved a breath before going to the bathroom and couldn't make himself turn out all the lights.

Dean went back to the bedroom finally and found Sam where he'd left him; huddled under his blanket and very much awake with wide eyes. "Hey, kiddo."

"Are the bad things gonna come for us tonight, Dean?" Sam asked. Knowing about the monsters and that their Dad fought them and Dean fought them and even training now to fight them himself didn't make Sam feel any better. He still felt like a scared kid and couldn't get the faces of the terrifying clowns in the movie out of his mind.

"No, Sammy. We're safe." Dean reached a hand out to the light switch and thought better of it. He left it on and got in his bed. "Go to sleep." He closed his eyes and tried to find sleep himself. It was just a movie, he repeated in his head. The haunted carnival wasn't real no matter how much sense Sam made. There was nothing to be afraid, at least not that night. He was so focused on convincing himself to be calm he yelped when a hand grabbed his arm and he looked down to find Sam climbing onto his bed.

"Sorry." Sam gave him liquid, fearful eyes. "Can I sleep with you?"

Dean considered his own racing heart and nodded. "Yeah, come on." He lifted the blanket and let Sam crawl under with him. He chuckled when Sam nestled in against his side and finally gave a comforted sigh.

"I'm not a baby." Sam said, beating his big brother to teasing him. "I'm just…being careful. Dad says we should always be careful."

"How's sleepin' in my bed careful?" Dean asked but he put his arm around his little brother and pulled him closer as he snuggled down.

"Cause nothin' would get through you." Sam replied simply with the complete faith of a child who truly believed his big brother could beat anything that came through the door.

Dean sniffed and nodded and mussed his brother's hair before resting his chin on top of his head. "Damn straight, Sammy."

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John Winchester walked wearily into the little house and dropped his bag at the door with a groan. Poltergeists were definitely going to the top of his 'most hated job' list. He stretched to relieve the bruise on his back and then stared. "Why the hell are all the damn lights on?" He said softly and shook his head. He scrubbed a hand through his hair and headed down the hall. It was five in the morning and his boys should be asleep, not screwing around with all the lights on.

He strode to the bedroom with the intention of dressing them down and instead stopped, staring as a small smile worked its way onto his face. Sam's bed was empty but he could see the top if his head peeking out of the blankets at Dean's chest. His eldest had his youngest wrapped up in his arms against his chest; snoring softly into the dark mop of hair.

John switched off the light and silently pulled the door closed on his boys with a smirk. He hadn't seen them sleep like that in years unless Sammy was sick. He tip-toed back down the hall into the living room and dropped onto the couch with a weary groan.

"What the…" He reached under him for whatever he'd sat on and pulled out a video tape box. "Something wicked this way comes?" He chuckled. "No wonder they're huddling together. Good grief." He leaned across the table and rewound the movie. It had been a while since he'd seen it himself. He looked down and frowned. John pulled the open box of ammunition across the table, eyes widening in surprise. He started laughing. He had to cover his mouth and squeeze his closed to keep from out loud guffawing and waking the boys up. The army of little smiley faces looking up at him from the bullets had undone him and he knew who had done it.

"Oh Sammy." John flopped back on the couch wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "Can't say…you don't…do your research. Holy crap." He smothered more laughter and shook his head. He took a few deep breaths and hit play once the movie rewound. He got up and went to the kitchen and got a beer out of the fridge. He jumped back in surprise when something clattered against the window.

"What the hell?" John leaned over the sink and reared back as a very determined bat slapped into the glass again. He chuckled uneasily and reached over to turn off the light over the sink. The bat seemed to lose interest in the window after that and disappeared. He rubbed a hand sheepishly over the back of his neck; glad the boys weren't awake to see him jump like a girl over a stupid bat. John went back to the couch and dropped down as the haunted carnival began its march down Main Street. The eerie, macabre faces of the clowns made him shake his head and wondered how long it had taken Sammy to crawl in his brother's lap after that.

"Dean, you and I are gonna have a talk about acceptable movies for a ten year old." John said with a soft laugh.

He was dozing off halfway through the movie when something landed on his lap and surprised him awake. "Huh?"

"Dad! Dad!" Sam burrowed into his chest and wrapped his arms around his father's chest. "Is the Tattooed man gonna come for us?"

"Geez, Sammy." John hugged his arms around his youngest and tunneled his fingers into the shaggy hair with a laugh. "Gimme a heart attack and why aren't you still asleep?" He pulled Sam more firmly against his chest with a grin. "No, Sammy. The Tattooed man isn't real."

"Promise?"

John looked up in surprise to find Dean lurking at the end of the couch and rolled his eyes. "Come on." He raised an arm and after a moment Dean slid onto the couch and under his Dad's arm.

"Cause Sam and I were talkin' and he's kinda right." Dean looked sincerely up at him. "Most stories about monsters are based in fact. You said so."

"Most. Not all." John hugged his boys tightly and tried not to laugh. "This is just a movie." He stretched a leg out and hit the power on the television with his toe.

"Well, Sam was kinda scared." Dean said, trying for cool but his Dad chuckled.

"Uh huh." John ruffled Dean's spiky hair. "That's probably why he's drooling into my shirt right now?"

Dean leaned over and sure enough, Sam was now sound asleep with his head under their Dad's chin and one hand tangled in the hem of Dean's shirt. He rolled his eyes. "Little brat."

John laughed softly and leaned back, pulling Dean with him. "Sleep already. I'm beat." He let his head drop onto the back of the couch and smiled as Dean settled himself against his side. "Don't worry." John said softly. "Mr. Dark can't get you if you're loved." He squeezed Sam against his chest. "Pretty sure Sammy's got that covered for us." He grinned sleepily as Dean snorted a laugh and settled in to sleep warmed by his boys against him.

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_The End._


	25. For starzskymoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Info: For starzskymoon - Just a basic hunt with Bobby, Dean, and Sam. Sam gets stabbed/poisoned/mauled (you know something of the injuring variety), but because of circumstances the guys are stuck overnight in the woods... or maybe warehouse. Sam is critically injured. Dean/Bobby have an anxiety filled night vigil. You know just a wham. bam. limp sam.
> 
> A/N: Seeing as I just put up a story set in a warehouse, we'll go with the woods for this one. :D Ok Bobby, so…set in season 2 I think. Back when the brotherly angst was still minimal, comparatively speaking.

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The wind whipped through the forest, shaking leaves loose from the tree tops to rain down on the three men trudging up the low slope of the mountain. The air was cooling but not yet cold and carried with the scent of impending rain.

"I still think we should have waited until after the damn monsoon to come up here." Dean groused and turned the collar of his jacket up against his neck

Bobby smirked back at him and shook his head. "Logging crew's gonna be back up here in the morning."

"Which means more dead if we don't find this thing and gank it. I know." Dean rolled his eyes. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

Sam chuckled behind him and hefted the duffel bag higher on his shoulder. "You're just pissed we might have to camp out here tonight."

"I'm not camping." Dean said quickly. "Squished in a tent in the rain with my brother and Bobby? Right. Yeah. Not on my list of happy thoughts, thanks."

Bobby chuckled and looked up at the darkening sky. "We need to find this thing soon or we're gonna get poured on."

"Viradha's a new one." Sam said as he lengthened his stride to walk alongside his brother. He ran through the description in his head again; vaguely humanoid with a hideous face and oversized mouth. That in itself gave him pause but the lore had been specific that the oversized mouth contained rows of fangs dripping blood. He and Bobby had spent days researching the creature and still couldn't come up with a clear answer on whether or not the blood or those fangs were venomous. "Try not to get bitten."

Dean snorted and gave him a lop-sided grin. "Betcha ten it tries to bite Bobby first."

"Boy, don't make me come back there." Bobby rolled his eyes as he scanned the forest; amused and irritated at the same time. "Way you ladies are chatterin' back there, damn thing probably already knows we're here."

"I thought that was the idea?" Sam laughed softly.

"I take it back. Wouldn't eat Bobby." Dean gave Sam an amused glance. "Probably not into sour."

He laughed with Sam and didn't duck fast enough when Bobby bent, whirled and splatted an over-ripe crab apple into his chest. "Ugh! That's disgusting!" He brushed the mushy fruit off his shirt with a disgusted face and then reached over to slap the back of Sam's head. "Take a breath idiot."

Sam laughed hard enough to draw tears to his eyes and had to wipe them away. "You asked for it."

Dean tossed bits of the fruit at Sam even as his eyes tracked through the trees ahead of them and narrowed. "Bobby?"

"Yeah I see it." Bobby had caught the movement as well. He pulled his rifle up to his shoulder and slowed his pace.

Sam and Dean pulled their rifles up as well; the humor set aside. "Where is it?" Sam asked and saw Bobby shake his head.

"Dunno. It was ahead of us a second ago." Bobby squinted to see in the fading light. There was a rustle ahead and he tensed. A second rustle came from directly above and he whipped the rifle's muzzle up. "Crap."

"Is it up there?" Dean closed the distance to him, peering up into the thick canopy of leaves.

"How well does this thing climb anyway?" Sam asked and then grunted in surprise as something collided with his back. He went forward toward the ground and then gasped in surprise as he yanked back violently, the straps of his pack digging in to his shoulders.

"Sammy!" Dean aimed above his head and fired.

Sam was released and dropped to the forest floor. He rolled away and came to rest with his rifle pointing up into the trees. "Ok." He said breathlessly as Dean edged over to him and reached a hand down. "Climbs pretty damn well." He took his brother's hand and let him pull him to his feet.

"You ok, boy?" Bobby came around behind him to look and whistled through his teeth. "Good thing you had the pack." He tugged and Sam let it slide off his shoulders.

Sam turned to look and rubbed a hand over his neck. "Wow." The pack was pierced through with claw marks and as Bobby gave it a shake, the front shredded and the contents tumbled out to the ground. "That would've hurt."

A low growl carried through the trees and put them all on the defensive. "We only got an hour of daylight left here." Dean kept his eyes on the trees above them, trusting Sam and Bobby to watch his back. "We need to put ugly down."

Bobby looked up the hill and nodded. "Should be a cave back that way. Maybe we can corner it in there."

"That's likely its den." Sam knelt and hastily shoved the collapsible shovels and can of salt back in the pack. He had to turn the straps the other way and carry it like a bag to keep everything in it.

"Let's move." Dean waited for Sam to walk ahead of him, keeping his brother between him and Bobby unobtrusively. The Viradha's attack made him nervous.

Bobby's nerves twitched with anxiety. He hadn't counted on the thing being able to come at them from above and it had been fast. He wasn't sure he and Dean had even managed to hit the large, furred body before it dropped Sam and sprang back up into the trees. He jerked his gun to the left as the bushes rustled again. "Watch it, boys. Cave's just ahead a quarter mile."

Sam spun to his right as the sound of a hissing growl carried to him. "It's playing with us." He said softly.

"This bitch is not smarter than us." Dean growled and twisted to aim behind them at another rustling.

Sam ran his eyes back to Bobby and a sudden, fearful shiver ran down his spine. He looked up above the older Hunter and his eyes widened. The Viradha was perched in the trees just above him. Bobby's back was to them all and Sam knew he would never make the turn and fire in time.

"Bobby!" Sam sprinted forward as the Viradha released its hold on the branches and dropped toward him. Sam slammed into Bobby's back just ahead of the creature and sent him sprawling into the leaf litter. He brought his rifle up in time to deflect the clawed hand reaching for his chest and grimaced as they glanced off his upper arm instead. He fell backward into Bobby with a short cry.

"Shit!" Dean ran for them; having seen the whole thing in what felt like slow motion. He fired into the Viradha's back as it bent for Sam again.

Sam kicked out at the creature's knee and grinned in satisfaction when it screamed and fell to the earth. The jaws were opened wide with blood dripping from each razor fang as it growled its anger. "Bobby?"

"I'm good, son." Bobby scrambled off his back to his butt and aimed at the Viradha's head.

The creature seemed to sense its impending death. It gave another howl and whipped its head around. Sam had no warning as the powerful jaws clamped around his leg below the knee and he couldn't hold back the pained scream. He heard Bobby's gun fire, then Dean's and finally the Viradha's grip on his leg went lax and he dropped to his back.

"Sam!" Dean slid to his knees beside his brother. "God, Sammy. You ok?"

Sam nodded but didn't trust himself to speak just then. The bite was burning pain all through him. Bobby appeared above him with a scruffy, comforting smile.

"Boy, what the hell were you thinkin?" Bobby patted his shoulder and then moved down to pry the Viradha's mouth from his leg. "Yech." Bobby rolled the creature's head to the side and wiped the blood on his jeans before going back.

"Say something, dude." Dean picked up Sam's right arm with a grimace for the claw marks across his bicep. "You still in there?"

"I'm…I'm ok." Sam closed his eyes and groaned. "Maybe not…ok but…I'm here." There was a sudden, deafening crack of thunder from above them. Sam jerked and moaned as it caused more pain to course through him.

"Easy, Sam." Bobby knelt and gave concerned eyes to Dean.

"We gotta get him out of here." Dean set Sam's arm down and bent to get a look at his leg and hissed between his teeth. "Damn." The Viradha had obviously been trying to take a chunk out of him before it died. Puncture marks ringed his calf as Dean pulled the ripped denim aside and was bruising as he watched. He looked up as the first, fat rain drop fell and made him shiver. It was cold.

"No time." Bobby looked down sadly at them both. The last of the light was fading and with it came the record storm the weather forecasters had called for. "We need shelter. Now. We can take care of him til morning."

"Bobby!" Dean gestured at Sam's chewed up leg.

"We can't carry him down outta these woods in a damn downpour, Dean!"

"Dean." Sam reached out and grabbed his brother's arm. "Bobby's right. We'd just…we'd get lost." He smiled wanly and tried to push himself up on his elbows. "I'll be fine."

"Cave." Bobby bent and collected the pack Sam had dropped. "We'll get him up inside and I'll come back and get big ugly here buried before he regenerates or whatever."

"Dammit." Dean was anything but happy but he nodded. "Fine. Come on, sasquatch." He took his brother's arm, the one that hadn't been clawed and pulled him up until he was standing. "Whoa." He grabbed hold of his shoulder as Sam swayed and would have gone down again. "Gonna need a hand here, Bobby."

"We gotcha, Sam." Bobby slid under his other arm, careful of the claw marks. "Let us do the work and you keep off that leg much as you can."

Sam nodded. "Got it." He gritted his teeth as they started walking or rather, Dean and Bobby walked and he tried to not make them completely drag him.

The rain began to fall in earnest a few minutes later earning a string of Marine worthy curses from Dean; enough to make Sam chuckle weakly between the two men. The drops were cold; much colder than the surrounding air and felt like a balm on the back of Sam's neck. "Guys." Sam felt his head lolling and struggled raise it.

"Almost there, son." Bobby assured him. "You're gonna be fine." In truth, the kid's face was worrying him. If he got any paler they'd be able to see through him and there were two spots of color riding high on his face that screamed blooming fever.

"Rain feels good." Sam muttered and let his head drop again.

Dean tightened his arm around his brother's waist and gave him a little shake. "You're not flakin' out on us are you?"

Sam shook his head. "M'still good."

Dean shook his head to get the water out of his eyes and looked over at Bobby. "How much farther?"

"Just up there." Bobby gestured with his rifle off to their left. Night was closing around them as they came in sight of the black maw of the cave opening and Bobby sighed with relief. They were pretty much carrying Sam now. He wasn't even sure the boy was awake anymore; he certainly wasn't responding to Dean's repeated attempts to talk him.

"Dammit, Bobby. We should have taken him back down to the damn car and gotten him out of here." Dean growled in fear and frustration.

"We'd never find it in this." Bobby stopped just outside the cave and looked up briefly into the pouring rain. The thunder and lightning were almost constant now. "You hang on while I go in and check it out."

Dean nodded and took all of Sam's weight against him, loathe to lay him down on the muddy ground. He watched Bobby jog to the cave and flick on a flashlight before vanishing inside. "Come on, Sammy. Time to wake up." He slung his rifle over his shoulder so he could have a free hand and took Sam's face so he could see it. "Sammy!" He said sharply and was rewarded as Sam's eyes opened mere slits. "That's my boy. Wake up."

"Home?" Sam asked groggily and frowned as he tried to work his way through the cobwebs in his head for what had happened. He jerked when the memory finally surfaced.

"Hey! Calm." Dean steadied him. "You're good. Bobby's checking out the cave. Have you warm and dry in no time."

"Cave?" Sam looked up and saw the dark entrance. "Oh. Right. I remember…I think."

"I sure hope this is blood loss talking." Dean said darkly. "If that bastard poisoned you I'll carry your ass down the damn mountain myself."

Sam snorted softly and smirked. "Think I'll take my chances…in the cave. Less likely…to drown."

"Oh bite me, bait boy." Dean glared but he couldn't help the small smile. If Sam was making jokes he couldn't be as bad off as he looked just then. "Hey Bobby! We're drownin' out here!"

"Keep your pantyhose on!" Bobby yelled and reappeared in the mouth of the cave. He waved them on. "Come on. It's clear."

Dean tugged Sam into motion. The twenty feet to the cave was slow going with Sam fighting to make every step. Bobby grabbed his free arm when they got there and helped steady him. "Over this way." Bobby steered them further in and kept his flashlight on the stone floor ahead of them. "Here. Put him here." He helped Dean lay Sam down against a wall of the cave beside a small depression with a pile of wood in it. "Found some dead wood back a ways in there. This was the Viradha's nest alright." He grimaced. "Trust me, you don't wanna get any further back or the smell'll put us all out."

Dean pulled his own flashlight out of the bag Bobby had set near the wall and clicked it on before turning to Sam's leg. "Gotta get this cleaned up, Sam."

Sam nodded and let his head rest against the cool stone. "S'burning kinda."

"Your leg?" Dean asked and scowled when Sam nodded. He pulled the damaged bag over and upended the contents onto the cave floor, smiling. "Least the first aid kit's still here." He opened the box and pulled out a small flask. "This might hurt." He opened it and slowly poured holy water over the bite wounds. At first nothing happened and hope flared that the burning was nothing more than pain. Dean's hope gave way to fear as Sam twitched, moaned and then tried to pull his leg away.

"Crap!" Sam shouted and came off the wall. Bobby was suddenly there holding his shoulders.

"Easy, Sam. Easy." Bobby soothed and pressed him back into the wall. "Finish it, Dean."

"Sorry. Sorry." Sam gasped. He wrapped his hands around Bobby's arms to anchor himself and fought the urge to pull his leg away.

Dean clenched his jaw, never happy causing his brother pain and started pouring again. The holy water hissed and bubbled as it went into the punctures left by the Viradha's teeth. He braced Sam's leg with his other hand to hold it still while Sam made choked, pained sounds and squirmed in spite of himself. "Sorry, Sammy." Dean kept pouring until the water ran clear at last; no more bubbling and hissing. Sam collapsed back against the wall with a groan in relief. "Ok, buddy."

"I'm gonna get the fire lit." Bobby patted Sam's shoulder and went back to the firewood.

"How you doing buddy?" Dean rested a hand on Sam's neck and gave a squeeze to get his attention.

"Been better." Sam managed finally and gave him pain filled eyes. "Tired."

"No sleeping til we're sure Cujo didn't poison you." Dean ordered. He went back to his leg and pulled the bandages and antibiotic cream out of the kit.

Sam closed his eyes and focused on listening to Bobby get the fire lit while Dean bandaged his leg. He didn't realize he'd zoned out until he startled and looked up to find Dean's hand on his face. "Sorry. Still here."

Dean smiled. "Promise you can sleep later. Gimme that arm."

"It's not bad." Sam raised his arm and let Dean peel his jacket and flannel off of it. "Scratches."

"Yeah, I'll be the judge of that." Dean looked over as Bobby got the fire lit and warm, orange light filled the cave. "That's better." The rain was pouring down outside the entrance and he was becoming inured to the constant rumble of thunder. He focused on Sam's arm and nodded. They weren't bad, just long and no doubt painful. He held up the flask of holy water for Sam and waited until he got a nod before pouring it. Unlike his leg, the holy water had no reaction to the claw marks. "Huh." It didn't fill him with confidence about his brother being poisoned. He'd have felt better if it had reacted to both wounds. He silently wrapped the claw marks and put Sam's arm in his lap with a pat.

"Thanks, Dean." Sam said with weariness in his voice.

"Here." Dean pulled a canteen from the torn pack and handed it to him. Sam nodded and lifted it shakily to his lips; drinking long before letting it fall. "How's the leg now?" Dean asked and handed the canteen across to Bobby as the older man came and knelt beside them.

"Still…still burning." Sam admitted. He shifted against the wall and groaned. "Really, guys. It's burning." He could feel it, as though something uncomfortably warm were in his leg.

"Probably just the wound burnin'." Bobby patted his shoulder. "Don't borrow trouble."

"No. No." Sam's eyes flew open as his breathing sped up and came in harsh pants. He could feel it burning up his leg. "I can…I can feel it…spreading." He put his good hand on his chest as an ache started there.

"Sammy?" Dean took his shoulder and gave him a shake. "Dude, take a breath."

"Trying." Sam stared up at him and tried not to panic. His chest was tightening by the second; each breath requiring more effort for him to move in and out. As he watched Dean's eyes go from concern to fear his head began to swim. "God…Dean."

"Sam!" Dean gave him another shake as Sam's eyes rolled back in his head. "Come on!"

"Balls!" Bobby dove for Sam's leg and hastily un-wrapped the bandage Dean had wound around it. He sat back and rubbed a hand over his face once he had. "Dean."

"What, dammit?" Dean jerked his head around and his eyes widened. "No. Ok, we gotta get him out of here, Bobby!" Dark lines had appeared on the skin of Sam's leg, webbing out from the bite wound.

"Dean, we can't!" Bobby's voice was anguished as he threw an arm toward the cave entrance. The storm was still in full swing; the pouring rain, thunder, lightning that lit up the night for brief seconds and then returned it to pitch black. "We won't see two feet in front of our faces out there! We got no choice, son. We have to wait it out."

Dean dropped his head and took a deep breath to find his calm before looking back up at his brother. He nodded finally.

"Can't."

Sam's voice brought Dean's head up further. It was soft and tired. "Sammy? Can't what?"

Sam rolled his head toward Dean's voice. "Can't." He ran his tongue around a mouth suddenly gone dry and fuzzy. "Can't move…my legs."

"Son of a bitch." Dean said softly. "Hey. Come here." He moved up to sit beside him and pulled Sam over so he was half leaning against his chest and curled an arm around him. "You're gonna be fine, little brother."

Sam gave a watery smirk. "Cause…because you said so?"

"Damn straight cause I said so." Dean said firmly. "You just keep breathing."

"Least we won't run outta water." Bobby said with a small smile. He wrapped the bandages around Sam's leg again gently. "Sam, does it still hurt?"

Sam shook his head slightly. "Doesn't."

Dean listened to him wheezing breaths in and out. "Keep breathing, Sammy." He got a small nod before Sam's head rolled back into his neck. "Sam?" Dean took his face and turned it so he could see and he blew out a fearful breath. "He's out again."

"Storm won't last all night." Bobby assured him. "Few hours the report said."

"Right. Cause weathermen are so damn reliable." Dean rolled his eyes and did his best to reign in his anger; Bobby didn't deserve it. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Bobby scrubbed a hand under his ball cap and stood. "I gotta go back and try and dig a hole for that thing. You be ok?"

"I got him." Dean waved him off. "Watch your back." Dean watched Bobby grab up his rifle and flashlight and take off back out into the rain. He sighed and settled Sam against his shoulder. "You know you're not supposed to let the monsters chew on you, Sammy." He waited, hoping for a snort or an insult but only got Sam's labored breathing in response. The pop and crackle of the fire did nothing to hide the sound. He let his head rest against the stone and closed his eyes; giving in to the weariness. He meant it to only be for a moment and didn't notice as he slipped into an uneasy sleep.

Dean wasn't sure how much later it was when he jerked awake and blinked his eyes open. He scrubbed a hand over his face and then frowned. He was warm. One side of his body was uncomfortably warm and he realized it was Sam.

"Shit! Sam?" Dean gave him a shake but got no response. Sam was burning with fever. "Ah come on, kiddo." He looked around hoping for Bobby but he hadn't returned yet. "Dammit!" He thought for a moment, listening to Sam's wheezing breaths and the steady downpour outside and then nodded. "Ok. Gotta cool you off."

He eased out from behind his brother and knelt. Lifting Sam was no easy task with his extra inches but he staggered to his feet under the weight and turned for the entrance. "Sure wish…you were twelve…again." He grunted and stumbled out into the rain. As he'd hoped it was still falling ice cold from the black skies above. He had to blink furiously to keep his eyes clear. Dean went to his knees next to the entrance and laid Sam down, sliding behind him again to hold him up so he was sitting. The water made him shiver and Sam shook violently in his arms as it began to saturate his clothing. He moaned.

"That's it, buddy." Dean coaxed. "Wake up. Come on." He tipped Sam's head forward to keep the rain from drowning him. "Damn that's cold." The heat from Sam's body was still warming his chest but the rain running in streams between them was quickly cooling him. "Sam."

Sam struggled up out of the blackness that had been holding him; unable to ignore his brother's voice. Confusion swirled through his mind. He was somehow hot and cold and wet all at the same time but he could feel Dean's arm across his chest; his hand on his head and feel the steady thump of his heart against his back. "Dean?" He said weakly.

Dean grinned. "Hey. About time you came back to the party." He used his hand to keep Sam's head down. "Don't look up. Friggin rain will drown you dude."

"Rain." Sam cracked his eyes open and shivered hard. "S'cold."

"Can't put anything past you, college boy." Dean smirked. "You're running a little hot. Had to cool you down."

"A l-little?" Sam fought for air through his tightening chest. "Gotta be…worse than a little for…for you to…sit out here wi'me."

"Shut up." Dean looked out into wet, black night and silently begged the damn storm to end already. "It was getting stuffy in there. Bobby builds a crap fire." Sam chuckled and hunched forward as it turned into a cough. "Easy, Sammy. Take it easy." Dean thumped his back a few times until the coughing stopped. Sam's weight went forward into Dean's arm as he went lax. "Sam?" Dean pulled him in against his chest again and leaned forward; Sam's eyes were closed and he was out again. "Dammit, Sam."

"What in hell are you two doin' out here?"

Bobby's yell made Dean jump in surprise. "Bobby." Dean wiped rain out of his face again. "Fever."

Bobby knelt beside them and put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "He's gonna be fine."

"What took you so long?" Dean asked as Bobby gently picked Sam's head up to check him over.

"Burying the Viradha which is a bitch by the way in pouring rain." Bobby looked up at him with a smirk and let Sam's head droop back to his chest. "And got a travois put together for our boy here." He nodded to Sam. "Well mostly. I wanted to come check on you two idjits first."

"We're good." Dean assured him.

"Let's get him back inside." Bobby went and wrapped his arms around Sam's legs and waited for Dean to struggle up behind his brother.

They settled Sam back beside the fire and Dean resumed his spot between him and the wall. "How much longer, Bobby?" Dean asked and looked up at him with the knowledge his brother didn't have long in his eyes.

Bobby sighed. "Soon. It'll be soon enough, son." He gave Dean a small smile. "I'm gonna go finish the travois. Be back in a few minutes."

Dean watched him leave again and eased Sam's head back onto his shoulder to help his breathing. He was still wheezing but the breaths were slower and shorter now. "Startin' to worry me here, tiger." Dean told him softly. The sound of his brother's breathing, the falling rain and the crackle of fire were all beginning to make his teeth itch with worry. He spent the time Bobby was gone filling the cave with the sound of his voice instead; reminding Sam of things they had done as kids.

Bobby eased back into the cave and slowed. He took a moment listening to Dean and chuckled softly. He cleared his throat to let the older brother know he'd returned and stepped into the light. "How 'bout that time the little snot crawled in bed with me with that damn half-dead Garter Snake cause he thought it was cold."

Dean gave a startled laugh and nodded. "He was what…six?" Dean looked fondly down at his little brother. "Never heard a grown man scream that loud."

"Shuddup." Bobby warned with a laugh. "I didn't scream. I yelled…manly like. Storm's almost done. I figure it's cleared enough now we can get a start."

Dean smiled with relief. "Hear that, Sammy? We're getting out of here." He eased out from behind Sam as Bobby jogged back out and returned dragging a frame of deadwood behind him just long enough for Sam. He barely stirred when they lifted him and laid him atop it.

Bobby carefully turned Sam's head to the side and looked up to find Dean watching. "So the rain don't drown him while we're moving."

Dean smirked and took hold of the travois by Sam's head. "Let's get moving."

The walk back down the slope of the mountain through the forest seemed to take forever with Dean constantly checking over his shoulder that Sam was still breathing. Bobby easily kept pace beside him and watched Sam just as closely. The rain had stopped ten minutes after they left the cave. The wind still whipped through the forest, robbing them of warmth but it was better than being drenched constantly. Dean sobbed in a quiet breath when they finally broke through the trees and saw the Impala sitting just where they'd left her. The rain had washed the sleek, black car clean and left her gleaming in the single ray of moonlight that broke the thick cloud cover above.

"Finally." Dean picked up his pace, fighting through the exhaustion. "How far are we from a hospital?"

Bobby jogged ahead and pulled the back door open. "An hour maybe." He turned to help Dean as he set the travois down beside the car. Together they picked Sam up and slid him into the back seat. "I got a sample of the Viradha's venom too just in case."

"Good thinking." Dean said, relieved. He ran around to the driver's side and got in, gunning the engine to life as Bobby climbed in beside him. "Come on baby."

Dean drove at break-neck speeds; ignoring the frequent groans from Bobby in the passenger seat. To his credit, the older man said nothing about slowing down. Dean's attention was solely focused on the road and listening to the sound of Sam's labored breathing in the back seat. Each pause Sam took made Dean hold his own breath; waiting for the next inhalation before he took one of his own.

When they finally found the town Bobby had directed him too and pulled up in front of the hospital, Dean's nerves had reached a breaking point. He was out of the driver's seat before the engine had silenced and had the back door open, pulling Sam out. His breathing was weakening to a point where Dean had barely been able to hear it over the engine the last few miles.

"Easy, Dean." Bobby came around the car and caught Sam's legs as Dean pulled him clear of the car. They carried Sam between them into the Emergency Room and shouted together for help. Events seemed to pass in a blue after that for Dean as Sam was taken away from them. Questions were fired at them from Doctors and Nurses; all answered by Bobby who told them some weird snake up in the forest had bitten his leg and gave them his venom sample. The grim faces all around as Sam was wheeled away did nothing to help his nerves. Only Bobby's grip on his arm kept him from storming after his brother. He allowed himself to be steered instead to a waiting room.

"He's gotta be ok, Bobby." Dean said softly and let himself be pushed down into a chair.

Bobby sat beside him and kept a firm hand on his shoulder. "He will be, son. You'll see. Sam don't give up easy." He wasn't sure if he was saying that more for Dean's benefit or his own. A little of both, he decided. He'd kept a hand wrapped firmly around one of Sam's wrists as they drove and so had been unable to help but feel the weakening pulse beat by beat as they neared the hospital. He looked over at Dean's drawn face and decided he didn't need to know that.

"He gives up I'll kick his ass." Dean whispered and sat back, resigned to waiting to hear what his brother's face would be.

It was more than an hour later before someone in a white coat finally came for them. Dean had been prowling the waiting area and came close to pouncing the Doctor as he came through the door.

"How is he? My brother. Is he ok?" Dean asked in a rush.

The doctor smiled and took his arm. "Have a seat, please. Dean is it?"

Dean nodded. He and Bobby had filled out paperwork while waiting and were now the Tyler family, party of three. "How's Sam?"

"Mr. Tyler." The doctor nodded to Bobby as Dean sat beside him. "Sam's going to be fine. The next few hours will be rough as the toxin works out of his system but he should be alright by morning."

"Wait. Should be? Is he gonna be fine or not?" Bobby demanded, his voice surly and rough with lack of sleep.

"Will be." The doctor nodded. "I'm sorry. We don't often talk in absolutes. The venom sample you brought us is…odd but we managed to find an anti-venom close enough to do the job. I won't lie. It was touch and go for a while as anti-venoms are almost as hard on the body as the venom itself. He's doing well now though. Sam is stabilized and sleeping peacefully under heavy sedation." He patted Dean's shoulder softly. "You can sit with him if you like."

"Yes. Now." Dean stood and waited impatiently for the doctor to start moving.

"He'll need to stay off that leg for at least a week." The doctor spoke as he led the two men down a hall. "But we can talk more about that tomorrow when he's conscious." He stopped at a door and opened it, waving them in. "There's an empty bed in there. You both look like you could use some sleep yourselves. I'll see about finding another and bringing it down."

"Thanks, doc." Bobby stepped past him and followed Dean into the room.

Sam lay in the hospital bed with his leg raised up in a sling. Numerous tubes snaked from his arm and out from beneath the hospital gown they'd put him in. His face was pale and his dark, shaggy hair stuck to his forehead.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean reached up and brushed the sweat-damp hair out of his eyes and finally took a deep breath; listening the steady beep of the heart monitor beside the bed.

"Why don't you get some sleep, Dean." Bobby gestured to the other bed a few feet away.

Dean shook his head. "You go ahead. I'm good for a while." He pulled a chair over and sat next to Sam's bed where he could keep a hand on his brother's arm. He needed the contact and reassurance that he was actually out of the woods.

Bobby sighed and went to the other bed, sitting wearily on the side. "He aint gonna wake up before morning, Dean."

Dean smirked. "Yeah he will." He watched Sam's face and the slight movement of his eyes beneath his lids. "He's too stubborn to stay out until he knows we're ok too."

Bobby opened his mouth to argue and then stopped, staring as Sam moaned softly and tilted his head toward his brother. "Well, I'll be damned." He said softly and chuckled as Dean leaned over him.

"Sammy." Dean called him and squeezed the side of Sam's neck. "Wake up, Sam." It took several more minutes but finally Sam's eyes cracked open to mere slits. "Mornin' sunshine."

"Dean." Sam's voice was little more than a whisper and Dean might not have heard it if he hadn't been right next to his head.

"I'm here. We're fine, Sammy." Dean assured him.

"Bobby." Sam asked.

"Hey." Bobby got up and went to lean over him as well. He waited for Sam's sluggish eyes to find him and smiled. "You idjit. You're supposed to be sleeping. They gave you the good stuff. Stop wastin' it."

Sam smiled. He turned his head back to Dean and let his eyes slide closed.

"That's my boy." Dean shook his head, amused and sat back down. He looked up at Bobby smugly. "Told you."

Bobby shook his own head, patted Sam's shoulder and went back to the other bed. He rolled onto it and closed his eyes with relief. "Get some sleep, idjit."

Dean grinned and leaned his arms on the side of Sam's bed, letting his head rest on them. He watched Sam's chest rise and fall, no longer able to hear him wheezing and smiled. He let his eyes close and blew out a breath. He let the steady thud of Sam's pulse in his wrist beneath his hand lull him into a doze and sleepily wondered how many gimp jokes he could come up with in a week to irritate his little brother.

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_The End._


	26. For Avelonemyst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Info: For Avalonemyst - Sam and Dean help out the Wild Hunt on a hunt. Dean meets an over friendly steed
> 
> A/N: This is set oh anywhere in Season 1. :D

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Dean struggled against the iron grip holding his arms behind him and tried to remember when the simple hunt had gone all wrong. Sam grunted beside him and went to his knees. Dean glared at the man holding his brother and made a silent promise to pay that one back later. He looked around the crowded field that had been empty only minutes before and sighed. It was just a Black Dog. They had spent a week tracking the cagey bastard over three states. It killed and ran as though it knew someone was after it and, Dean supposed, it had been right; just not the Winchesters.

"Kneel before the King mortal." The gravelly voice of the man holding Dean said in his ear and he was forced to the ground beside Sam. "Show respect or walk the land of the dead forever."

"Respect. Right." Dean smirked as Sam hurriedly shook his head at him in warning. Dozens of horses milled around the open field, each with a rider. Some wore armor; others looked as though they had been plucked from the street in business suits, a woman in a sparkling dress and one poor guy in a sweat suit who stared at the brothers with hopelessness on his face. They'd closed on the Black Dog, nearly had the damn thing when the air had shifted, clouds had swept in to blot out the moon and this crazy hunting party had materialized practically on top of them.

"It's the Wild Hunt." Sam said softly beside him finally. "We are so humped."

"Share with the class, Sammy." Dean watched a group of horses coming closer and the well armored riders who watched them before dismounting. "And make it fast."

"The Wild Hunt. It's uh…ancient Germanic lore. They exist in a spirit realm, chase evil and the souls of the damned into Hell and uh…" Sam stuttered, looking around at the other riders. "If the Hunt takes you, your theirs until they let you go…if they let you go."

"Come again?" Dean asked and then looked up at the motley collection of riders with newfound understanding. "Oh hell no." He watched the armored riders who had come closer and focused on the one at the lead. He wore a crown and a gold cape flowed over the back of an enormous black charger. He studied the Winchesters from atop his mount, gave a short nod and turned his horse around.

"You will ride." The man holding Dean said and released him to stumble forward on his knees.

"No way, jackass!" Dean got to his feet, pulling Sam with him and surreptitiously moved his brother behind him as he faced the warriors. "No way we're gettin' on your crazy train pal. We're walking outta here."

"Dean." Sam put a hand on his arm as he heard swords clear scabbards behind them. "Let's not piss off the ancient warriors with swords alright?"

"You will ride." The warrior repeated. "You will be put astride your mounts. On pain of death you shall not let your feet touch the earth lest the King give you leave."

"That's in the lore too." Sam whispered beside him. "Anyone who tries to leave the Wild Hunt without the King's permission dies. Dean…we have no choice."

Dean growled low in his throat and trembled with the urge to attack. Sam's hand on his arm held him in check along with the fact they were ridiculously outnumbered and their guns had been taken. "How long?"

Sam shrugged. "That's…I don't know. There's stories."

Dean glared at him. "Guess."

Sam watched two horses being brought their way and sighed. "Some people say they were let go and arrived back where they left only minutes later even though they were with the hunt for…months…or years. Others…" Sam faltered and swallowed. "Others rode with the hunt for days and were released to find hundreds of years had passed."

"Son of a bitch." Dean threw off Sam's hand and took an angry stride toward the warrior who had held them. He stopped as a circle of swords rose at him.

"To ride with the Wilde Jagd is an honor. To refuse is death." The warrior pointed to the two riderless horses. "Mount." He grinned beneath a gleaming silver helm. "Or die."

"Dean, we have to." Sam took his brother's arm again and pulled him back. "They'll let us go."

"Yeah, but when?" Dean snarled at the warrior and let Sam pull him away toward the horses. He groaned. "Man, this is bullshit."

Sam smirked. "You know you love the whole Lone Ranger thing." They couldn't change it so he decided to try for humor.

Dean eyed the two horses. One was an Appaloosa with wide black spots and it whickered softly in his brother's direction. "You get that one, little Joe." He shoved Sam toward it with a chuckle. That left him with the taller of the two; a silver mare that dwarfed him. He raised his hands as he neared. "Hey there sweetheart. Let's play nice now."

Sam swung up into the saddle of his horse and watched his brother approach his own. "You might wanna hurry up, they're starting to look anxious."

"Shuddup." Dean put a hand out for the horse to smell. She sniffed his fingers and then buried her nose into his wrist, pushing his sleeve back along his arm. "Hey, I think she likes me." He grunted when her head suddenly thumped into his chest and knocked him back a step. "Whoa!" She whuffled into his chest and then at his neck. Dean took another step back but she came with him and mouthed at his hair.

"Oh she definitely likes you." Sam chuckled and then barked a laugh when the mare dropped her head and shoved her nose into his brother's crotch.

"Aw…hey! Come on…this is…dammit rape!" Dean pushed at the silver head and tried to ignore the laughter from his brother and the other riders nearby. A warrior came in beside him and took the lead for the horse, tugging her head away. The man's face was wreathed in a smile as he did so and Dean growled at him.

"Mount…if you're able." The warrior said.

"Kiss my Winchester ass. If I'm able." Dean glared and walked around the side of the Mare now that her head was being held still. She fought it, wanting to follow Dean but seemed to settle once she felt him take hold of her saddle. He pulled himself up into the saddle, surprised to find the stirrups were exactly the right length and settled into it. He opened his mouth to ask when they were going to move and then snapped it shut as a horn call went up from behind them.

As one, every horse turned and broke into a gallop. The world seemed to stretch around them, the trees and sky and ground stretched into a blur as the wind whistled past them like a gale. Dean hunched forward over the Mare's shoulders and looked across to see his brother doing the same. They exchanged a glance but words were impossible as the horses moved. There were more horns, shouts from the armored warriors and far ahead of them the King's gold cloak streamed out behind him like something alive, writhing and moving with the wind. Time too seemed to stretch. Dean couldn't tell if it was hours or only minutes since the chase had started and then they stopped. He lurched forward and gasped in air as the world returned to normal around them.

"Dean?" Sam asked in a breathless voice and saw his brother turn wide eyes to him. "You ok?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Peachy. What the hell was that?"

"Uh…spirit world. I think." Sam brushed his hair out of his eyes and jerked his head up as a howl sounded nearby. The warriors gave an answering cry. Sam looked over and saw the man in the sweatsuit beside him. The man looked over with tears in his eyes.

"It never ends." The man said, his voice choked with tears. "It just…it never…never ends. I can't."

"Don't!" Sam shouted but too late as the man slid from his horse in a stumble and onto the ground. "No! Get back on your horse! Please!" He could only watch as the man froze suddenly in mid stride. Sam saw his feet turn the color of ash. It spread quickly up his legs, through his torso and crept up his head. He gave a last, agonized scream and burst into dust to settle slowly to the ground like a macabre snow.

"Ok." Dean breathed and met the horrified look in Sam's eyes. "No getting off the horses."

Sam nodded and clenched the reins tightly in his hands in fury. The absolute helplessness of the situation tore at him. The horn went up and again the horses lurched into motion and faded the world around them.

They rode on and Dean tried to keep his eyes on Sam as they went. He knew what watching that would have done to him. He didn't handle the loss of an innocent as well as Dean or their father did. He wished he could have said something to him but knew now exactly what fate awaited them if they dared to dismount. He held on as the Mare rushed beneath him through the deepening night and wondered if it would ever end or if they would be stuck like this forever until one day they did what the poor sucker had done; climb down to their deaths rather than be trapped.

The horns rose once more as the world bled back into focus around them. Dean gasped for air as the wind died. The mare reached her head back and managed to get hold of his pant-leg and tugged on it with her teeth. "Knock it off."

"Dean." Sam reached across the distance between them and touched his shoulder. He pointed ahead. Warriors were sliding from their horses with torches and circling something.

A shout went up, the warriors parted and Dean got a good look at the massive form of the Black Dog as it was circled and snarled at its captors. "They found the bastard."

One of the armored warriors rode up beside them and pointed to both men. "You may dismount." He shifted his arm to point at the creature. "You will fight that which you hunted with us."

Dean dropped his head and looked over to Sam. "They wouldn't trick us off the horses would they? Just to watch us die?"

Sam shook his head. "No. They'd consider it…bad form." He took a deep breath. "I hope." Sam slid out of his saddle and let his feet thump into the earth. Dean dropped as well and together they waited.

Dean whooshed out a loud breath of relief. "You good?"

"Yeah." Sam called back.

Dean took a step and found himself with a face full of horse head again. "Aw come on lady!" He shoved the head but she stubbornly buried her muzzle into his chest and grabbed a mouthful of his shirt with her teeth. "I hate to tell you this, sweetheart, but I'm taken and I don't cheat on my Baby."

Sam came around and was startled into a laugh at the sight of his brother once more being molested by the over-amorous Mare. "You always said…you had a way with the ladies."

"Sammy!" Dean glared over the horse's head at him. "Don't think I won't kick your ass."

"Now you fight." The warrior gestured impatiently toward the Black Dog.

"You took all our weapons, genius!" Dean yelled up at him. "What do you want us to do? Ask it to die politely?"

In answer the warrior held down two short, curved blades that gleamed silver in the firelight. "You will use these." He waited for both men to take them. "If you triumph, you shall go free."

"And if we don't?" Sam asked, giving the blade a test swing.

"Then you die." The warrior said simply and took the Mare's reins to pry her loose from Dean. "Go or be dust where you stand."

Dean exchanged a glance with Sam, who shrugged and together they strode toward the waiting circle. "Got a plan?"

Sam smirked. "Don't get dead."

Dean chuckled. "That usually works for us." The line of warriors parted for them to let them through.

The Black Dog seemed to sense their presence and turned to glare glowing, red eyes at them. They split and went wide to circle the creature. It snarled at them, turning back and forth to keep them both in view.

"Hey!" Dean yelled and gained its sole attention. "That's right ugly. Come get some." The Black Dog howled into the night and closed with Dean.

Sam inched up behind it. Its head stood even with his shoulders but it was the spot at the base of its neck that he wanted. He followed the beast as it stalked to his brother and readied to leap to its back. He drew the knife back in readiness and had only time to gasp as it spun suddenly and backhanded him with one massive paw.

"Sam!" Dean shouted and watched his brother sail through the air to crash into the ground. The warriors circling them gave a cheer and Dean growled angrily. He kicked out at the Dog's back leg and crumpled its knee. He spun, dodging a swipe of its claws and tried to get closer to his brother. "Sammy?"

Sam rolled to his back and gasped in a breath. The impact had knocked the breath from him. "Yeah."

"Quit screwin' around and get up!" Dean yelled and put himself between the creature and Sam.

Sam scowled and forced himself to his feet, hunching over the ache centered in his chest where the Black Dog had hit him. "Impatient." He said to Dean as he came up beside him.

Dean smiled. "Knew it'd get you on your feet." He swung out with the blade when the Dog came for them and sliced into its shoulder, making it scream its fury. The warriors cheered again.

Sam lunged after it and landed a stab into the beast's neck. It swung out and instead of him, knocked Dean rolling off into the grass. "Dammit! Dean?" He body-checked the Black Dog in the shoulder and knocked it off balance but it swung its head back and snapped viciously at him. He fell backwards to avoid the jaws as it rose up over him. The creature screamed and dropped to the ground and Sam looked up in shock as Dean's horse pawed the air behind it and slammed its hooves into its back again.

"That's my girl!" Dean shouted and rolled to his feet. He saw Sam regain his footing and together they closed with the struggling beast and slammed their blades home into the back of its neck at the same time. The Black Dog screamed loud and long and finally fell dead between them. The mare gave it another stomp before backing away and went to Dean. She nuzzled into the hair at the back of his neck and made him chuckle.

"You are victorious." The King emerged on his steed from the ring of warriors and looked down at them. "You have earned your freedom from the Wild Hunt, Humans. Go and know that you have earned our respect." He waved a salute to them. "And be warned. Should you cross paths with the Hunt again, you will ride with us e'ermore."

Sam and Dean watched as the warriors mounted and in a moment they seemed to blur together. The silver mare gave Dean's chest one last fond nudge and then she too faded into the light and was gone. Dean rubbed a hand over his chest and shook his head.

"That was…" Dean said and Sam nodded.

"Yeah." Sam stared around them and then looked at his watch. "Huh. Dude, I don't think we've been gone more than ten minutes."

"Look." Dean pointed down the field toward the road and grinned. "There's my baby."

Sam shook his head and started down the hill with him. "Man, we got lucky." He said and rubbed his own chest. It burned from the hit he'd taken. "They could have kept us for centuries."

Dean wiped a hand over his neck. "I smell like horse. Dude. Do I smell like horse?" He asked his brother. "Don't wanna get that smell all over her."

"I don't think she'll mind." Sam said with a laugh as they reached the car and shook his head.

"Women always know Sam." Dean ran a hand over the hood as he walked around to the driver's side. "She meant nothing to me, Baby, I swear." He cooed at the Impala and smiled.

"Issues, Dean." Sam snorted and got inside. "You have got issues."

"Ignore him, Baby. He doesn't get us." Dean climbed behind the wheel with a last look at the open field and a fond smile. "Come on, Sammy. I need pie."

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_The End._


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